


willing to lose

by cptniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Brotp Lirry, M/M, communication of hidden feelings through rope tugging, highborn harry, liam and harry have pet direwolves, nights watch liam, nights watch niall, no one says 'you know nothing' at any point, side larry - Freeform, sorry niall but historical accuracy means no dye jobs, that sounds like a weird euphemism but it isnt, this is a strong indicator that I've listened to stockholm syndrome too many times, wildling louis, wildling zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 46,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptniall/pseuds/cptniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>liam has spent his whole life trying to find a purpose and a home. he thought the night’s watch was the answer to that. but, as the gods would have it, he finds everything he’s ever wanted where he least expected it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. P A R T  O N E

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to one of my most wonderful and incredible friends, brigitte. her love of game of thrones, jon snow and ziam knows no bounds so for her birthday fic i really had no choice but to somehow combine them all.
> 
> special shout out to aisha (as per) for listening to me talk about this literally every day since i first came up with the idea
> 
> (i didnt want to split it into two parts but i wasn’t finished the whole thing by brigitte’s birthday because i’m trash)

_there's comfort, comfort in things we believe_

_ other than danger, wanting the things i can't see _

“Snow!”

The call wakes Liam with a start, chill of the winter morning air instantly sinking in, all the way to his bones. It’s always cold here. Always so _so_ cold, and while Liam has grown accustomed to it over the last few months, he still misses the warmth of home. 

_Winterfell_ , he thinks. Not home. It was never home.

He feels his hand tightening around the base of his sword, realising he’s reached for it without even knowing. An instinctual reaction, one that he hopes he never shakes. One he knows he can’t afford to shake. 

Letting go of his sword, Liam stands as quickly as he can, pulling on his under shirt in an attempt to straighten out the crinkles that have come with the few hours he’s been asleep. He blinks a few times, squeezes his eyes together to shake off the post-sleep haze and focus on Nicholas, the steward standing in front of him. 

He hears a low growl from beside him, and though he already knows the source of it, he looks down with a fond smile. Phantom, his overgrown all-black direwolf, stands dutifully at his side, snarling at Nicholas. 

“Lord Commander Mormont wants to speak with you.” Nicholas tells him, and Liam’s stomach lurches at the sound of the words. 

He wants to be excited about it - wants to believe that the Lord Commander wants to speak to him to praise him on how well he’s being doing, how pleased he is with his progress. But more likely, it’s bad news.

There’s no such thing as good news when you’re apart of the Nights Watch. 

“Phantom, stay.” He tells the direwolf, who instantaneously sits next to Liam’s bedside. 

Liam hurries to Lord Commander’s office, old wooden floor of Castle Black’s hallways creaking underneath him as he does. He’s not sure how long he was sleeping for, but the sun has just started to rise outside, light creeping through the few windows he passes on his way. 

Mormont is at his desk when Liam walks in, holding a piece of parchment in his hand. He doesn’t react to Liam’s presence, doesn’t look up when the door shuts behind him. Just stares at the parchment, eyes flicking from left to right over and over again.

Liam is sure now that he was right - this definitely isn’t good news. Last time this happened, the last time that Liam was summoned only to find the Lord Commander carefully reading a piece of parchment and hesitating to look him in the eye, it had been bad news. The worst news. 

_Desmond Stark has been beheaded for treason on the orders of King Joffrey, first of his name and King of the Andals._

Liam can’t do that again. Won’t. He stares at the parchment in the Lord Commander’s hands, trying desperately to see through to the other side, to see the name of his brother, or his sister, but it’s too thick and he can’t see anything. 

“Snow.” Lord Commander finally says. Liam feels ill.  

“You wanted to see me, my lord?” Liam prompts him, insides knotted and hands clammy. 

“We received a raven this morning…” Lord Commander begins, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of him. “From one of our scouts beyond the Wall, at the Shadow Tower.”

Liam tries not to visibly react to the news, tries to keep his shoulders square and face straight. That’s ranger business. His family are safe. The world may be falling apart and winter may be coming, but for another day, his family are safe and they’re okay and he knows he can handle anything else. 

“Mance Rayder has started gathering his army.” Mormont pauses, as if he expects Liam to interject, but Liam knows better than that. He blinks once, twice, waiting dutifully for Mormont to continue. “Wildlings. They’ve rallied to his side.”

“How many?” Liam asks. 

“All of them.” Mormont sighs, pushing the parchment on his desk further away from him. “They’re plotting. Planning, getting ready to make their move.”

“Where?” 

“Who knows. South, maybe. Somewhere safe.” Mormont taps his fingers on the thick wood tabletop, and Liam tries to process the words. Wildlings have been a threat to the Night’s Watch for as long as he can remember, as long as he’s known anything, but it’s never been all that credible of a threat. Wildlings are free folk, and they struggle to band together for a common cause. 

This is dangerous. Very dangerous.

“Stupid as it is to risk more men in a time like this, at this point I see no other choice. Mance was one of us once.” Mormont tells him. “He knows how we think, what we do. What we’re best at and what we’re worst at. Mance is the key. They can’t function without a legitimate leader, the wildlings. They’ll flounder, and they aren’t a threat to us if they’re floundering.”

“It’ll be hard to get to Mance if he’s surrounded by wildlings.” Liam says, thinking out loud for himself and Mormont. Mormont nods, pursing his lips. 

“To take them by surprise, we need to take out the lookouts. We need to move fast and silent.” He pauses again, leaning back in his chair, a look of sternness about him. “It’s not a job for all of us, Snow.”

The weight of the words hits Liam as he realises what is being asked of him, why he was summoned here.

“The scouts are requesting two of our men to make a move.” Mormont looks up from his desk, looking at Liam meaningfully.

Liam nods wordlessly, clenching his jaw as Mormont continues to look at him. 

“I want you and Horan to go.”

It’s an important mission, but he and Niall are barely rangers. It’s only been weeks since they were promoted from stewards, and while Liam knows he can do this, knows he can pull it off or die trying, this is huge. This is the Lord Commander trusting him with matters that determine the safety and future of the Night’s Watch and the whole realm. 

More than that, he’s trusting _Niall_ with this. Which would be an entirely bizarre decision, if Liam wasn’t the only ranger on the Wall able to inspire Niall to action.  

“You’re hardly more than a boy, Snow, but you’ve got Stark blood in you. And despite what you, what many, may believe, that actually means something.” He pauses for no more than half a second. “Apparently.” He adds as a bitter afterthought.

“When do we leave?” Liam asks, mind scrambling as he pieces together what information he’s been given. This may well be a suicide mission, but Liam will be damned if he’s not going to throw himself into it and give it everything he has. This is his life now - he lives for and will die for the Night’s Watch. 

“Noon.” Mormont answers him. “And take that mutt of yours with you.” 

Liam nods eagerly, hesitating as he tries to determine from the look on Mormont’s face whether he is finished with him or not.

“Go, tell Horan. I’m sure he’ll need some time to come to terms with the news.”

Liam tries his best not to chuckle at this, knowing that Mormont isn’t the biggest fan of humour. But really, that's what the statement is - humorous. Because both men know it to be all too true. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Niall stares at Liam blankly when Liam tells him, and for a moment Liam can’t be sure that he spoke the words out loud. But then Niall takes a deep breath and tips his head back to look at the sky, white and vast above them.

“Liam!” Niall whines. He drops his head, shooting Liam a tired look. “The mountains are fuckin’ freezing! S’if it isn’t cold enough here in this shit hole.”

He doesn’t seem to care that there are dozens of other Night’s Watch recruits around him and clearly listening to what he’s saying with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and Liam isn’t at all surprised by his nonchalance. Niall willtell anyone who listens what a shit hole Castle Black is. 

“I know.” Liam replies carefully, much more conscious of the volume of his voice than Niall apparently is. “But the Lord Commander has asked it of us, so we have to.”

Niall stares at him another moment longer after that, chewing his lip thoughtfully, almost as if he’s holding something back.

“Alright.” He says. “Wasn’t really doing much around here anyway.”

“That’s the Niall I know and love.” Liam chirps, patting his friend on the back enthusiastically. 

“So what’s the plan then, walk around in the snow until we find some wildlings?” Niall asks, letting himself be guided by Liam’s hand on his back from the training yard towards the armoury. 

“Something like that.” Liam responds, knowing well that Niall doesn't care for details. 

“Brilliant.” Niall mutters, and Liam doesn’t miss the annoyance in his tone. He spots Phantom out of the corner of his eye, happily trotting over towards them from the other side of the training yard until he’s one step behind Liam.

“You don’t sound to happy about it.” Liam notes. An understatement. 

“That’s because I’m not.” Niall replies. “This sounds to me like Lord Commander Mormont trying to off us the easy way.”

“He’s trusting us, Niall. This is a big deal.” Liam replies, tone hushed as they pass Matthar and Balian, two of their fellow rangers. Neither man makes eye contact with Liam or Niall, keeping their eyes straight ahead, and if Matthar hits Liam with his shoulder on the way past, Liam pretends he didn’t notice. 

“Why are you so eager to please this guy anyway?” Niall asks, his voice far louder than Liam would like it to be. Though now that Liam thinks of it, he’s not sure Niall knows how to whisper. “What has he ever done for you?”

“It’s not about that.” Liam mumbles, squaring his shoulders as they make the final turn into the armoury. 

“What’s it about then?”

“ _I am the shield that guards the realms of the men_ —“

“Oh, give it a rest, Liam.” Niall moans, banging his head once on the dark wooden wall next to him for good measure. Even Phantom makes a low whining noise, which Niall pats him on the head for. “That shit was annoying the first time I heard it, and it hasn’t stopped being annoying after the three-hundred-and-seventy-first time either.”

“If you don’t want to come, Niall—“

“Let’s not pretend I have a choice.” Niall pulls out a sword that Liam doesn’t recognise, waving it aimlessly in front of him and narrowing his eyes as he watches it move. Liam takes a few steps further away from Niall for good measure. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t die trying to do something brave and stupid.”

He gives Liam a fond smile now, and Liam grins back, relieved more than anything that Niall is willing to do this, if not for the realm and the Watch, then for him. He forgets sometimes that not everyone is the same as him, not everyone perceives their role in the same way Liam does and with the same enthusiasm. 

“What do we know about wildlings?” Niall asks, putting the sword in his hand away and pulling out a second one, slightly longer and sturdier looking. 

“They’re unpredictable.” Liam starts, biting back a sigh. “They’re excellent trackers. They know the land better than we do.”

“Seven hells.” Niall groans to himself, shaking his head. 

“And there’s lots of them.” Liam finishes, leaning against the frail wall to his left. 

“So basically,” Niall tucks the sword he’s holding into his belt. “we are well and truly fucked.”

“We’ll be fine.” Liam insists, giving Niall a pointed glance. Phantom pads over to Liam’s side, sitting by his feet and cocking his head at Niall. “Lord Commander wouldn’t have picked us if he didn’t think we could do this. We’ll be home in a few days.”

“ _Home_.” Niall mumbles, just loud enough for Liam to hear it - just loud enough to hit Liam in the chest like a punch. 

Niall had a home once, and though he doesn’t talk about it often, Liam knows that more than anything, Niall just wants to go back. He didn’t choose to join the Night’s Watch, definitely didn’t want to take the oath, not like Liam. 

“ _Here_.” Liam amends, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “We’ll be back _here_.”

“Alright.” Niall announces, straightening himself up and clearing his throat. “Let’s fuckin’ get organised. If we’re ever gonna get back we’ve gotta get going first.”

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

They leave a few hours later, wrapped tightly in furs with heavy packs strapped to their backs. Liam has no idea how long they’ll be out here for - he’s not sure of much about this mission, now that he thinks about it - but they’re prepared for the worst. He’s confident, he thinks as he straightens his back and extends his stride. He knows they have it in them to pull this off. He just knows. 

Maybe this is what it takes. Maybe this is what Liam needs to finally prove himself, to the Lord Commander and all the brothers of the Night’s Watch. To everyone. He’s more than his name, he’s more than a Snow. He’s worth something, and he’s sure as hell valuable. 

There’s not much to see while they walk - not that Liam expected much. Just snow, mountains, and the occasional cluster of trees. It’s cold, and the snow is thick underfoot, but Liam focuses instead on what’s in front of him. He picks a landmark every few yards - a rock, or a tree, or a dip in the snow - and focuses on making it to that point. He thinks of them has checkpoints, and each time he reaches on he celebrates the small victory in his mind. It’s something so small and silly, Liam knows that, but it keeps his mind occupied and his body focused. 

He has a large stick with him that he’s been throwing as far as he can every now and then, watching as Phantom bounds after it, then holds it in his mouth as he walks on ahead of them for a few minutes before returning and dropping the stick at Liam’s feet. 

It takes a surprisingly long time for Niall to start complaining, to the point where Liam has to turn around more than once to check that he’s still a few paces behind him and hasn’t stopped for a rest or tried to run away without Liam noticing. 

“I’m boldered.” Niall mumbles unintelligibly, with just enough projection in his voice for Liam to hear him.

“You’re _what_?”

“I’m bored. I’m tired. Cold. Hungry. Can’t quite decide which it is.”

“Hungry.” Liam decides for him - the most likely answer, if he’s learned anything about Niall in the year or so that he’s known him. 

“Probably.” Niall replies simply. 

Liam can just barely see Phantom in the distance - he’s a mere black dot at the moment, zig zagging across the snow, stick hanging out the left side of his mouth. They walk in silence for a bit longer, the sound of Niall’s footsteps alternating with Liam’s. Liam smiles to himself as he steps over a large rock laying on the ground, half covered in snow. One checkpoint closer. 

“So, are we gonna talk about this?” Niall asks. 

“Talk about what?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Liam. No one else to talk to.” Niall continues. Liam genuinely doesn’t know what he means, so he waits for him to go on. “What is it about the Lord Commander, huh? Why are you so willing to do whatever he asks of you?” 

“I’m not—“

“Yes, you are.” Niall insists before Liam gets a chance to finish his sentence.”The guy could tell you to shit in your hands and clap and you’d have your pants around your ankles standing in a half-squat before he finished talking.”

Liam curls his lip up at the truly disgusting analogy, turning to share the look with Niall as he slows his pace enough for Niall to catch up with him. 

“Just sayin’.” Niall shrugs innocently, as though what he just said wasn’t the most disgusting thing to come out of his mouth. Though, to be fair, it probably isn’t. 

“I owe a lot to the Night’s Watch.” Liam explains, looking directly ahead and fixing his gaze there. Phantom has started running back towards them now. “I’ve said my oath, and I plan to keep it.”

Niall doesn’t answer, and for a long moment Liam feels guilty with the idea that Niall is annoyed at him. Though it would be an entirely irrational reason to be annoyed with someone, Liam thinks he would feel bad for anything that causes Niall to be cross with him. He’s notoriously easy going, too much so to allow anything to stick to him. 

“I never had a place in this world.” Liam admits now, voice shaky. “And the Watch gave me a place.”

“That’s crap.”

“Excuse me?”

“Crap.” Niall repeats.

“What, that I have a place in this world?” Liam is offended.

“No. I think you have a place.” Niall tells him, tone softer as he speaks this time. He gently bumps his right arm into Liam’s left as they walk. “I just don’t think this is it.”

Liam doesn’t answer - doesn’t know how, honestly. He’s spent the last year and then some growing accustomed to his life on the Wall, as a part of the Watch, forcefully throwing himself into every aspect of the life and gratefully embracing all that comes with it. He’s _made_ this his place, made the rangers and builders and stewards his brothers, made the bed he sleeps on _his_ bed, in _his_ room. 

But he still can’t bring himself to answer Niall. He knows that disagreeing with him requires reason and an argument, and Liam just isn’t sure of what that is right now.  

“This definitely isn’t my place.” Niall continues, a tone of disgust to his voice as he scans their surroundings. Phantom runs behind Liam, looping around them until he’s at Niall’s side, standing as tall as Niall’s elbow. 

Liam remains silent. He doesn’t have it in him to disagree. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

“Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister, Margaery Tyrell.”

Liam waits for an explanation, some context to the list, but it doesn’t come. Naturally

“What are you talking about, Niall?” He asks eventually.

“If you had to fuck one.” Niall replies casually, a few paces behind Liam again.

“I’ve not met any of them before.” Liam comments, eyebrows drawn together with confusion.

“Liam!” Niall’s voice is loud, filled with mock offence. “You shouldn’t be fucking girls based on what they look like, that is _horrible_ of you to even suggest. It’s all about the _personality_.”

A giggle escape Liam’s lips in spite of himself.

“I’m not fucking girls at all, Niall, if you don’t remember.” Liam adjusts his coat on his shoulders, the heavy weight of their supplies starting to strain his tired shoulders.

“Yeah, but if you had to.”

Liam considers it for a moment, waiting just long enough to answer that he knows Niall is about to jump in and nag him for a response.

“Margaery.”

“And why?” Niall presses, running the few steps to catch up to Liam.

“I’ve heard she’s quite good.” Liam replies, struggling with the words and gesticulating around as if to help him make his point. “And Cersei is too old. And the Targaryen’s are notoriously crazy.”

Niall slings his right arm around Liam’s shoulders, shaking him a bit.

“Brother, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of crazy when it comes to fucking.” Niall tells him with a smirk, and Liam can’t help but laugh, loudly and properly, at that comment. “Let’s try something a little more your speed then.”

“Oh, god.” Liam groans. Niall ignores him entirely.

“Jaime Lannister. My brother. Or Loras Tyrell.”

“Loras.” Liam answers, embarrassingly quickly. His cheeks flush at the admission, feeling the redness creep all the way up his neck. “I mean. You know. If I had to.”  

“Ohh, really?” Niall teases, poking Liam in the side. “Why’s that?”

“I met him once. Years ago. He’s…” Liam’s voice trails off as he remembers Loras, young and slim with sharp features. One of the most gorgeous people Liam’s ever seen in real life. “He’s a nice lad.”

“A nice lad.” Niall repeats, laughing. “Good to know that’s all it takes to get your cock up.”

“Stop talking about my cock.” Liam grumbles, pushing Niall away from him playfully. “Think about your own.”

“Trust me, I am.” Niall says, shoving his left hand inside his thick coat and down the front of his pants for good measure. “I always am.”

“You are foul.” Liam replies, though he’s unable to keep a straight face. He giggles, Niall echoing him with giggles of his own as they continue to trudge through the snow.  

“And yet, I am the only person you’re friends with.” Niall smirks.

“Wait, something’s wrong.” Liam notices suddenly.

“Don’t try and change the subject—“

“No, Niall, something’s _wrong_.” He repeats, whipping his head around frantically. “Where’s Phantom?”

Niall’s head snaps up at this, he too having apparently not noticed the absence of the large direwolf. Liam can’t remember seeing him for the last five minutes at least, and while he likes to run ahead, he doesn’t usually run out of sight. 

Liam grabs Niall by the arm, pulling him into motion as the two of them break into a run. Liam’s vision is shaky as he runs, struggling through the snow, eyes searching anywhere and everywhere for a glimpse of the wolf. 

They run for only a minute before Liam, panting and red-faced, slows his pace. He gestures for Niall to do the same before pointing wordlessly at the familiar black shape ahead of them. 

Phantom has stopped up ahead, facing away from Liam, peering out from behind a large boulder. Liam squints, narrows his eyes to try and see what it is Phantom is looking at, what has made him not only run ahead and out of sight, but come to a complete stop for the first time since they started their journey. 

And then Liam spots it - big, furry, moving. But not an animal. 

He grabs Niall by the fur of his coat, frantically pulling them both to a stop behind the boulder next to Phantom.

Two wildlings sit nearby; one looks nearly asleep, the other lazily sharpening an axe. 

Niall gestures motionlessly to his sword, then imitates a throwing action. Liam frowns at him disapprovingly, mouthing a firm _no_. Sometimes it’s best to nip Niall’s more terrible ideas in the bud before they really get going. 

Liam taps his own chest, then Niall’s, and points to each of the wildlings. _One each_ , he mouths. Niall nods, apparently understanding, and Phantom inches forward ever-so slightly, eyes locked on the wildlings. 

It all happens so fast Liam barely knows what’s happening - the sleepy wildling, small and dark haired, reaches for his axe and looks to swing it, but Niall knocks it out of his grasp with his right hand and hits him with the blunt end of his sword with his left. The other, slightly larger and face hidden beneath a hood, leaps to his feet and thrusts his own weapon at Liam’s head. Liam dodges it, sees Niall struggling to pin his man down beside him. Without help, he knows he needs to finish this quick.

The wildling swings at him again, but Liam blocks it with his own sword, the Valyrian steel creating a loud clanging sound before he thrusts the sword forward again. The wildling falls backward trying to dodge it, and with the momentum of his great swing, Liam topples down on top of him. 

Liam readjusts his grip on his sword, sitting up, arm cocked and ready to strike as he holds the other man down under his weight. He grabs the man by the hair on the back of his head as his hood falls off, and suddenly Liam’s met with deep brown eyes on his.

He breathes deeply, quickly, chest rising and falling heavily under Liam’s weight.

“Finish him, brother.” Niall urges from somewhere behind him. If Liam was paying attention, he would hear the sound of snow scuffling, of Niall struggling to hold down the other wildling, of Phantom breathing heavily over his shoulder. But he isn’t paying attention.

He can’t see much beyond the fear in the eyes of the man beneath him. _Man_ might be a stretch, actually, now that Liam can see his face - he’s a boy, no older than Liam and Niall by the looks. Liam’s sword is pressed to his dark throat now, near cutting the skin and on the verge of drawing blood. 

It would be easy to do it. Just push the blade further, and he could kill this boy, and it would be done. 

Strands of the boy’s dark hair that have escaped his ponytail blow in the wind, into his dark eyes, which are still locked on Liam’s. 

“Will you yield?”

If he doesn’t, Liam will have to kill him. He knows that.

“Liam—“ Niall starts.

“I yield.” His words come, voice deep and thick, Liam’s sword bobbing against his throat as the words come out.

“I yield too, in case anyone was wondering.” The other boys voice comes, a little squeaky and much higher than the first boy. 

“I don’t know if Mormont will be too pleased with us taking captives…” Niall mutters, though Liam is yet to hear of him killing the wildling in his own grasp. “Besides, who knows if we can even trust them. They are wildlings, after all.”

“This isn’t about trust.” Liam replies, kicking the dark haired boys axe out of his reach to emphasise his point. “I won’t give them the chance to get one up on us.” He pauses, taking in the now-calmed appearance of the boy beneath him. He’s got dark skin, the skin of someone born far from here, with dark hair and darker eyes, a slightly-gaunt face and high cheekbones. “Do you have a name?”

“Zayn.” The boy speaks. Liam reaches to put his sword away, and hears Niall doing the same behind him as he stands up. 

“Louis.” Comes the other boys response. Liam turns just in time to see him stand off the ground and wipe the snow off his front. 

“And yours?” The wildling, Zayn, speaks again. Liam looks up, taken aback by the remark. Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him. A bold move, Liam thinks, given he’s the one with the weapon. “We gave you ours.”

“Liam Snow.” Liam replies. He knows he didn’t have to. He jerks his head over his left shoulder. “And Niall, of house Horan.”

“Snow.” Zayn repeats, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Interesting name.”

“Bastard name.” Liam replies quickly, shortly, attention turning to Niall and the cut on his hand. “My father was Lord Desmond Stark of Winterfell.”

“But your mother not a Lady?” The other, Louis, chimes in. 

“I don’t seek to make friends with my captives.” Liam snaps defensively. Niall’s hand is barely bleeding now, the cold and the pressure of Liam’s hand slowing his blood flow to the wounded area. 

Suddenly, Liam feels cold steel pressed to his throat and an arm around his chest, breath hot on his cheek.

“Maybe _captives_ is the wrong word for it.” Liam can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice. Niall, only a few feet away, is in a similar position, with Louis holding the blade of his own axe to Niall’s pale neck. “I think cap _tors_ might be a better choice.”

They stand like that for a moment, each awaiting a movement from the other. Liam feels the axe cutting him, neck starting to bleed as Zayn’s grip remains right around his chest. Liam isn’t sure if he even realises he’s cut him. 

Phantom stands between them, staring intently at Zayn as he holds Liam against him. Liam gives him a warning look - he knows Phantom wants to protect him, but Zayn and Louis have the advantage here, and if they wanted to they could have Niall and Liam dead before Phantom takes a step. 

“Well.” Niall looks from Liam to Zayn, then down at Louis’ axe on his neck. “Safe to say this one didn't quite go the way we’d hoped.”

Liam sees Louis’ arm drop just the slightest bit, enough that his weapon isn’t a threat to Niall’s life any longer. Niall notices, letting out a breath that steams in the air in front of him.

Liam remains silent, so Zayn presses his blade closer.

“Yield.” Liam mutters, feeling the wetness of his own blood drip inside his coat. “I yield.”

“Good.” Zayn instantly drops his arm, pushing Liam a step away from him. “Louis, take their swords.”

Louis does as he’s told, taking both Niall’s and Liam’s swords from their belts. He tucks Liam’s bigger sword into his own belt, offering Zayn Niall’s sword, which Zayn accepts, though Liam doesn’t miss the way his arm buckles under the weight. 

Phantom remains tense, snarling and growling at Louis with his teeth bared.

“Call off your beast.” Louis says uneasily, backing away from Phantom and nearly tripping over a rock as he does. 

“Phantom.” Liam says sternly. “Heel.” 

Phantom does as he’s told, and Louis visibly relaxes immediately. 

“What do you plan to do with us, then?” Liam asks, swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat. 

“Take you to Mance. Maybe.” Zayn smirks, a twinkle in his eye. His accent is thick, almost unintelligible to Liam. “Maybe we’ll eat ya. You’ll have to wait and see, won’t ya?”

Niall turns his gaze on Liam, and if Niall was capable of a ‘told-you-so’ glare, this would be it. Or maybe it’s more a ‘if-we-survive-this-I’m-going-to-kill-you’ look. Either way, Liam looks away from him, turning his attention to Louis and Zayn. 

“Relax, pretty boy.” Louis’ smirk matches Zayn’s. “If we eat him—” he jerks his head towards Niall. “— we’ll share the fleshy bits with ya.”

Liam’s skin crawls at the thought, though he knows it’s an empty promise. If the wildlings wanted Liam and Niall dead, they’d be dead by now. 

The idea of what the have in store for them instead is one Liam would rather not consider. 

Liam looks into the distance, the endless white snow and blue skies. 

“What waits beyond the pass?” He asks, clutching his neck to catch the blood flow.

“The free folk.” Louis tells him, a definite air of pride about his as he takes a length of rope from Niall’s pack. He begins to tie it around Niall’s hands - rather loosely, Liam notices. Zayn takes another length of rope from Liam’s pack and begins to do the same to Liam. Liam begrudgingly outstretches his arms towards the shorter man, fists clenched and facing upwards.

“How many?” Niall wonders.

“Hundreds upon thousands. More than you’ve ever saw.” Louis remarks, smiling for sure this time, revealing slightly yellowed, straight teeth. 

Zayn is gentle with the way he ties knots around Liam’s wrists, but he’s tied up much tighter than Niall - so much so that it’s already starting to rub.  

“So march on the Wall then, that’s your plan?” Liam asks, dropping his hands once Zayn gives him the nod that he’s done. 

“What’s it to you, Liam Snow?” Zayn asks. He folds his padded and heavily-clothed arms across his chest.

Liam doesn’t answer. He doesn’t feel he needs to. 

“Sun’s gonna set soon.” Zayn notes once he realises Liam isn’t going to answer him. He looks around him, observing their vast surroundings. “Better get sorted for the night.”

It takes them another twenty minutes of walking in the snow - twenty minutes that are completely silent with the exception of Louis whistling a tune that is unfamiliar to Liam - before they find a suitable place to spend the night. 

The cave they happen upon is damp, and though it’s free from the wind it’s still cold, uninviting, and Liam silently thanks Niall for not openly complaining. He still doesn’t trust that complaining won’t get them killed. They haven’t yet tested their limits with Louis and Zayn, and frankly, Liam doesn’t care to. 

Thankfully, Louis and Zayn get a fire up and raring faster than anyone Liam’s ever seen, the cave being lit enough that Liam can see clearly the faces of all three of the other men as they too sit around the fire. Phantom lazily drops next to a shivering Niall, rubbing his face against Niall’s thigh carefully. 

Liam watches the fire at first - does nothing else but watch, flames rising and dropping again, steaming the air and flickering in the darkness. It’s warm, but Liam doesn’t feel comfortable. He has no idea how they’re going to get themselves out of this one.

He lets the thought cross his mind briefly that _maybe they won’t, maybe they’ll die_. But then he looks to Niall, who smiles back at him reassuringly, Phantom pressed up against his side, and he forces his mind to push the idea aside. This is not going to be how they die. He won’t let it be. 

“Where are you from?” Niall asks suddenly, eyes flicking between Louis, who’s seated next to him, and Zayn, sitting on the other side of the fire. 

Liam doesn’t expect them to answer - he’s heard from many that wildlings don’t like to talk, that they’d sooner bite off their own tongue than offer up information. 

“Don’t know.” Louis answers, nearly startling Liam. He shrugs. “Neither of us do. We were born amongst the free folk, and we’ve lived amongst the free folk.”

He and Zayn share prideful, fond smiles from across the fire. 

“So you don’t have any family? No parents?” Niall asks, leaning back and putting his weight on his right elbow. 

“Parents are probably dead.” Louis replies, the idea apparently not phasing him at all. Liam wonders what that’s like, to not feel the constant weight of the uncertainty of your lineage. “But I think we shared them once, when they were alive.”

“You and Zayn?”

“Yep.” Louis grins. “We’ve got to be brothers. I just know it. I feel it. Too like minded, me and him.”

Zayn smiles back still, but doesn’t speak on it himself. 

Liam doesn’t think they look a thing alike, if he’s totally honest, but he’s not about to piss off the two men holding him captive, holding his life in their hands. Well, technically, they’re holding axes in their hands - which has not gone unnoticed by Liam. 

“I have a brother.” Niall comments, nodding absent-mindedly.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. He looks genuinely interested. 

“Lord Gregory of house Horan.” Niall says with a put-on voice. He shrugs. “Some call him Greg. I just call him the biggest fucking wanker in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Liam nearly jumps ten feet in the air when Louis starts laughing, his whole face lighting up as Niall smirks proudly. Liam shifts uncomfortably on the stony ground beneath him, entirely unsure of how to behave in this sort of situation. 

Louis gaze shifts to Liam now, seemingly having noticed his silence. 

“You’re a looker, you.” Louis says, eyes narrowing as he smirks at Liam in a way that makes him very uneasy. “‘Course, can’t make of a go of it with a crow, can we? You’ve taken a vow and that.” Liam isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer, but either way he remains silent. “You got any good lookin' brothers?”

Liam doesn’t answer.

“Oh, come on.” Louis prods. “Niall told us about his brother. I’ve told you about mine.”

Liam glances quickly at Niall, mostly for reassurance, which he gets in the form of a tiny smile. 

“One brother.” Liam tells Louis, shifting on the ground to get more comfortable. “Half-brother, anyway. Harry.”

“And?” Louis’ smirk grows at this new knowledge. “Paint me a picture.”

“He’s tall.” Liam starts. “Long curly hair, fair skinned.” He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard as he pictures Harry, happy and smiling in Winterfell with his family. It’s been months sees he’s last seen him, since Liam gave him a hug and his old sword and left for the Wall. He looks a spitting image of his mother, the only physical trait he shares with Liam being his broad shoulders and dark hair. “Handsome. Kind. And brave.”

“And a Lord, too!” Louis whistles. “Maybe I ought to give life south of the Wall a go.”

Liam notes the playfulness in his tone and his smile, and finds himself smiling back. 

Zayn too is smiling, laughing quietly to himself as he pokes at the fire with a twig, in the sort of way that suggests that he hears this sort of thing from Louis a lot. He’s beautiful, Liam thinks - much more so than most wildlings Liam has encountered in his life. In fact, if Liam had pictured what the Prince of Dorne would look like, he would have pictured Zayn - sans-furs and with a bit of extra fat about him. 

Louis, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same air about him, Liam thinks as he watches him nestle in closer to Niall. He’s got sharp features, much like Zayn, but his face is rounder. His hair and eyebrows are lighter, not the same jet black as Zayn’s, and his features are smaller. 

Zayn, Liam notes, has big eyes. Dark, round eyes with no hint of malice in them. Not like Liam has met many wildlings in his life, or had the chance to look deeply into their eyes, but he finds it unusual. Zayn seems… non-threatening. Louis unsettles Liam, makes him fearful for his life in every capacity and in a way that a man that small definitely shouldn't - but Zayn…

Liam has always known he was attracted to boys, to men, but the only people he’s ever confided this information in are Niall and Harry. Niall, who had looked him right in the eye, nodded once with a smile, and carried on the conversation as if nothing had happened, and Harry - who had followed it up with his own confession that he’s been secretly bedding their father’s squire Jeff for months. 

Another several minutes of silence pass, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire and the occasional rub of fur and animal skin on the snow below them, before Zayn tells them all they had better turn in. 

“Early rise tomorrow.” He tells them. He takes Liam’s hands in his own as they both stand, grabbing at the rope that’s still knotted at the base of his wrists.

Liam looks at Zayn carefully for a moment, looks for some sort of hint or clue as to what he’s thinking.

But Zayn doesn’t undo Liam’s restraints - just loosens them enough so that Liam will be able to sleep comfortably. 

“Saw you fidgeting with it earlier.” Zayn notes, nodding down at Liam’s hands. “Your hands’ll fall off if you sleep with it that tight.”

“Thanks.” Liam replies, voice near-whisper, almost like he’s scared of Niall and Louis overhearing. Maybe he is. 

A strong wind blows through the cave, hitting every available inch of Liam’s skin and near-freezing him. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold in here.” Niall exclaims, before Liam gets a chance to.

“Aye, it always is.” Louis smirks. Liam doesn’t think he’s seen him with a different expression in the entire three or so hours he’s known him.

“Gotta sleep close to stay warm.” Zayn adds, eyes on the ground as moves their things around to clear a space large enough for the four of them to lay. “Or else we’ll freeze.”

Liam is about to open his mouth to ask just what it is he means by that, but then Zayn’s looking up at him, and _oh_ , right. Of course. 

Niall is the first on the ground, shuffling around and making himself comfortable closest to the wall in a way not unlike the way Phantom has near the cave entrance. Louis lays down next to him, pressing his body against Niall’s and wrapping his left arm around him. Niall doesn’t even flinch, just continues to breath deeply, calmly, already half asleep.  

Liam drops down after that, hesitantly tucking himself in to Louis, their bodies pressed flush against each other.

“Don’t be tryin’ anything frisky back there, crow.” Louis warns him, but Liam can hear the smile in his voice. Louis shifts his backside, just the smallest bit, against Liam’s crotch, and if he wasn’t restrained right now Liam would definitely reach over and smack him in the face for it. 

Liam pushes back off Louis a bit, not entirely confident that Louis will keep still throughout the night and definitely not wanting to be close enough to feel him moving against him. 

He feels Zayn’s breath on his cheek now, only unlike last time, it’s not hostile. He doesn’t have a weapon pressed to Liam’s throat, isn’t threatening or aggressive - just wraps his arm around Liam’s bulkily-wrapped middle, and pulls him just the smallest bit closer to him. Liam feels Zayn’s legs against the back of his own, and finds himself pushing back into them. 

Liam was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep - not tonight, not when he has a wildling on either side of him and the promise of his life ending at any moment in the forefront of his mind. But as he lays on the cave floor, Zayn’s breathing constant and even on the back of his head, he feels the exhaustion of the day settling in. His eyes are heavy, his whole body relaxing and sinking into the ground as he feels his mind and all his thoughts get further, further away.

The last thing Liam remembers before he falls asleep is feeling warm, so warm, warmer than he has in months. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

When Liam feels the cold air on his face but the warmth of another body near him, he thinks he may be back in Winterfell, back in his bedroom with his big thick blanket and Harry next to him, having crawled into Liam’s bed some hours ago to sleepily recount his night of debauchery to his half-brother and drifting off part-way through.

Liam feels Harry’s hand on his, fingers intertwined as they rest near Liam’s middle, but as Liam opens his eyes and looks down at them, he realises he’s wrong. Those hands aren’t Harry’s, they’re far too dark and slim to be Harry’s—

Liam’s hand instinctively clenches around the one it’s holding as he realises, Zayn’s body shifting against him. 

_He mustn’t have woken yet_ , Liam realises, still staring at their intertwined hands. He freezes when he suddenly hears a cough, and though he swears it was coming from behind him, it must have been Louis, or Niall. Must have been. Because Zayn isn’t awake right now. If Zayn was awake, he wouldn’t be holding Liam’s hand. Which is— well, that’s what they’re doing. They’re holding hands. 

Liam untangles his fingers from Zayn’s, carefully moving his hand further away so as to not wake the other man - but his efforts are futile, he realises, as he glances up. Because Louis and Niall are already awake.

“Morning.” Louis chirps, adjusting Niall’s restraints with a chipper grin - one which Niall is, strangely enough, mirroring. “Good heavens, you two slept long enough, didn’t you!”

Liam awkwardly shuffles forward, incapacitated by his restraints but desperate to get away, to move far enough that he can no longer feel the heat radiating from Zayn’s body. He eventually manages to sit up, arms tied in front of him. 

“Louis up before me.” Liam hears Zayn mumble. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“There’s a first time for everything!” Louis replies as he finishes with Niall’s knots. “Besides, it was hard to sleep with this little fucker rubbin’ his bony ass against my prick.”

Niall shrugs without a care in the world, and Liam lets out a thick, sleepy laugh in spite of himself. He’s had to sleep with Niall before, knows exactly what Louis is talking about. Niall, for someone who is so well-fed, has barely an ounce of fat on his body, least of all on his ass.

“Sorry crow, it’s not that you're not cute.” Louis smiles apologetically, patronisingly, running a hand through Niall’s brown hair. “Just not my type.”

“Understood. You've got a bit too much penis to be my type.” Niall replies, gesturing with his tied hands to the general area of Louis’ crotch. “I prefer the company of those with tits.”

Liam is almost alarmed at how adjusted Louis and Niall are to each other - but then again, Liam’s seen this before. Niall has the innate ability to make friends with everyone he meets.

As Liam starts to wake up properly, shake the grogginess from his mind, it’s with great relief that he notices that Phantom is nowhere in sight. 

“Your mutt wasn’t here when we woke up.” Louis comments, seemingly noticing the way that Liam is scanning the cave for any sign of the direwolf. “Suppose he ran off in the night.” 

Liam and Niall exchange knowing grins with this, because while Louis may not understand the importance of that fact, they certainly do. Phantom is smart; smarter than most humans, and if he knew that Liam was in trouble then he knew what he had to do. Liam imagines he’s halfway back to Castle Black by now. 

“Alright,” Zayn starts, and when Liam turns his head to look at him for the first time this morning, he sees him rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Let’s get a move on. Mance waits for no one.”

“The King Beyond the Wall.” Louis sings happily as he helps Zayn to his feet. He leaves Liam to struggle alone - which he does, given the nature of his restraints. Niall doesn’t seem to notice, too busy yawning as he shuffles his way out of the cave. 

Louis and Zayn bear the weight of their supplies between the two of them, Zayn dropping back to walk behind Liam with Louis jogging to take the lead in front of Niall.

This day looks more or less the same as yesterday - pale blue skies with white-capped mountains surrounding them on all sides, no visible end in sight. Just miles and miles of crisp white and blue, and while Liam doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything this beautiful, it also has an air of terror about it. He knows whats out there, and he knows it’s waiting for him. For all of them. 

“So what is it about the Night’s Watch, eh?” Louis asks, turning his head to be heard. After one day Liam already knows him as one who doesn’t understand the joys of a peaceful silence. “Do they give away blowjobs on entry or somethin’? Why the fuck else would you want to throw away your life like that?”

Liam stiffens at the words, feels his whole body tensing as he physically fights his desire to speak up. His words won’t change anything, won’t be able to make Louis understand. He can’t even make Niall understand his loyalty, and Niall’s taken the oath himself. 

“No blowjobs.” Niall answers. “No sex, no marriage, no fun.”

“Who said marriage was fun?”

“Point taken.” Niall nods. 

“Why don’t they let ya have sex?” Zayn pipes up from behind Liam, startling him a little.

“No fucking clue.” Niall responds. Liam doesn’t know either, if he’s honest. That’s just the way things are, the way things always have been. 

“You can’t even fuck each other?” Louis asks, voice a touch squeaky.

“Can’t say I’d want to, even if I could.” Niall laughs. “None of them are lookers, not like Liam. He’s one of a kind.”

“What about takin’ matters into your own hands?” Zayn asks as he nudges Liam, voice low enough that Niall and Louis may not even be able to hear him. It sends shivers down Liam’s spine for he reasons he can't quite explain and doesn’t care to explore. 

Niall laughs though, so Liam knows he heard him.

“Don’t know if you’re allowed.” Niall replies. “And don’t care. What are they gonna do, cut my hands off?”

“But you’ve fucked a girl before, Niall.” Louis says. Niall nods, even though Louis can’t see him. “What about you, Snow? Do you know exactly what it is you’re missing?”

Liam swallows hard, jaw clenching as he debates whether or not to answer. Zayn prods his shoulder gently with one finger, encouraging him to speak.

“Never.” Liam replies earnestly, after another long moment of silence. 

“Never fucked a girl!” Louis exclaims. He turns around now, walking backwards through the snow with ease. “What about a boy? Liam Snow, have you fucked a boy before?”

Liam stares straight ahead, not sure whether to shake his head or just entirely ignore the question. If he answers, he’s opening himself up to more questions, giving himself away. But if he ignores Louis, then he gives himself away even more.

“He’s a virgin.” Zayn notes. “Doesn’t want to talk about it either, by the looks.”

“Disappointing!” Louis exclaims, turning around again so he’s facing the right way. “I was hoping for some juicy stories!”

“Now that, I can give you.” Niall announces proudly, before delving into the story about how he made his brother’s wife’s handmaiden scream so loud the guards thought she was being murdered. Liam’s heard this story at least five times now, so he’s learned how to tune it out.  

He knows what Niall’s doing, knows that _Niall_ knows what Niall’s doing. But Liam can’t. He can’t bring himself to get comfortable with the free folk, enemies of the Night’s Watch; can’t cast aspersions on his brothers to whom he has sworn an oath of fealty. 

Because that’s what they are - brothers. They may hate Liam ( _may_ being the operative word - he still can’t figure it out) but they are his brothers and he sworn to protect and defend the realm with them. So that’s what he’ll do. 

“— and that’s how I ended up runnin’ down the hallway of the castle with me pants around me ankles being chased by me own guards.” 

Louis is in fits of giggles, to the point where their single-file line has slowed right down so that Louis can keel over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

“How does a guy like you end up throwing his life away to join the Night’s Watch?” Louis laughs, wiping his eyes and picking up his pace.

“Wasn’t my choice, was it!” Niall shakes his head. “Got caught fuckin’ some other Lord’s wife. It was either take the Black or lose my balls.” He turns around to look at Zayn, raising his eyebrows at him to emphasise his point. “Literally! They do that! Just cut ‘em off!”

“What happened to the woman?” Zayn asks while Louis giggles to himself. 

“Hanged.” Niall replies nonchalantly. “Honestly, sometimes I wish they’d done the same to me.”

“You’re good fun, Horan.” Louis chuckles. “You’re free. I’ve never known a crow to be free like you. Snow certainly isn’t. Not like us.”

“I am free.” Liam replies instantly, defensively. “As free as you.”

“You aren’t free.” Zayn snaps back, tugging on Liam’s restraints to bring him to a stop. Liam turns to face Zayn, noticing that the wildling’s face is a mix of annoyed and offended. “You’re a crow by oath. If you would be free, you wouldn’t have come for us, you sayin’ you did that by your own choice?”

“Yes, it was my choice, I chose to defend my brothers.” Liam tells him, feeling his whole face heat up despite the cold air.

Zayn takes a step closer to him, gaze not breaking from Liam’s, hands still on the ropes binding him.

“You can’t look me in the eye, man to man, and tell me that is true.” Zayn says, voice low and deep. 

They stay like that for a moment, eyes locked on each other, heavy breathing visible in the frosty air. Liam wants to respond, wants to tell Zayn that he’s wrong, but he doesn’t. He just— doesn’t. 

“Of course Liam isn’t free.” Louis calls from his place at the front of the line. “He’s our prisoner! Look at ‘im, he’s got his hands tied together. That isn’t free.”

Niall laughs at this, loud and genuine and almost tangibly breaking the tension. Liam is the first to look away, to break the eye contact as he turns back around to face the other two men.

“Come on girls, if we keep stopping to bicker, we’ll never get you to Mance.” Louis calls, tugging on Niall’s ropes to resume their movement. 

“I’d be okay with that.” Liam mumbles grumpily, trudging through the snow three paces behind Niall.  

“You’d really ought to keep an open mind!” Louis calls back. “You might like Mance.”

“Before or after he rips our heads from our shoulders and cooks us up?” Liam responds. 

Louis turns again, the smug grin on his face that of someone who knows something Liam doesn’t. 

“Open mind.” Louis repeats, smug grin and unwavering eye-contact directed solely at Liam. “Mance is a great man. He’s a true leader, a true King.”

“He’s right.” Zayn adds.

“How is serving a guy like Mance Rayder any different to us serving the realm and our King?” Liam asks bitterly. The rope linking him to Zayn is more taut now, held more firmly in Zayn’s grip and Liam knows it’s because he’s offended him. Liam ponders the symbolism of it for a moment, wonders if Zayn realises he’s done it, is doing it on purpose to send a message to Liam, or whether he’s just that outwardly expressive with his emotions that he gives himself away without realising.

“Our King is a right cunt.” Niall pipes up.

“Whose side are you on, Niall?” Liam asks him, frowning.

“Not Joffrey Baratheon’s, that’s for sure!” Niall turns his whole body just long enough to give Liam a knowing look. His constraints are much looser than Liam’s still, to the point where Liam wonders why they’ve bothered tying him up at all. “You hate him more than I do. After everything he’s done. Let’s not pretend he’s a good king.”

“Okay, well.” Liam replies stiffly. “It’s less about Joffrey as a person and more about the… you know…” Liam sighs, frustrated equally at Niall for putting him in this position and at himself for being unable to express the point he thinks he’s trying to make. 

“If your King is such a cunt,” Louis interjects suddenly. “And that brother of yours, Lord Harold Stark—“

“Harry.”

“If _Harold_ is such a stand up guy, then why isn’t he the King?”

Liam slows his pace, blinking at Louis with a blank expression. Being that he has lived for 21 years and has not once in that time had anyone ask that question before, he’s not entirely sure of how to answer it.

“He’s not…” Liam struggles with the words. “He’s too…”

“He’s too nice.” Niall finishes for him, giving Liam a ‘you’re welcome’ wink over his shoulder.

Saying Harry is _nice_ so broad of a statement that Liam almost protests the idea. He’s the kind of brother who always shared his play things, who tried to make Liam laugh in any way possible, who took the blame when Liam broke things or made a mess because he knew that Liam would receive a far worse punishment than Harry would. The selfless, loving, kind-hearted kind of little brother. 

But he doesn’t think Zayn or Louis, or even Niall, could ever understand that. So he leaves it at _nice_.

“A King has to make tough decisions.” Liam explains. The snow is getting more dense underfoot, Liam’s boots sinking an inch into the ground with each step. His legs are starting to ache, but he doesn’t let up his pace. 

“And you don’t think your brother could do that?” Zayn asks.

“No, he could.” Liam falls into line with Zayn, steps synched up as they walk. “But he wouldn’t want to.”

“So we’re stuck with Joffers.” Niall shakes his head. “Nasty little fucker.”

“Well Mance is nothing like your king.” Zayn says, steering them back to the original point of this conversation that was lost on Liam some time ago. “And we don’t _serve_ him. He’s united us. Lets us live free, but, there’s less fighting this way.”

“Couldn’t tell ya how many of me own I’ve had to kill.” Louis calls from up front, shaking his head. “Shame, really. I mean, they were total cunts and swinging axes at my head, but still. Before Mance it was just chaos.”

“It’s better this way.” Zayn tells them. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll have our lands back.”

“All this?” Liam asks, the words coming out before he has a chance to think twice about them. 

“This is just the beginning.” Zayn continues. Liam feels the tension in his ropes ease as Zayn talks. “It’s only going to get worse. This, here, with us and you, is nothing. This is peace.”

“You should consider yourselves lucky that it was us you ran into, and not some of the others!” Louis calls, turning his head just enough so that Liam can hear what he’s saying. 

_Lucky_. Liam takes a moment to consider this, suddenly steeled by the realisation that Louis is right, and that he and Niall should probably be dead by now. He assumed they would be, when Zayn first pressed his blade to Liam’s neck as he stood behind him in the snow - but they aren’t. They’re still alive and they may be tied up but it doesn’t feel much like they’re at their end. 

In knowing that comes the nagging feeling that Liam knows it’s not going to end well. It may not end with their deaths, but this is one story that doesn’t have a happy ending, no matter how hard Liam tries to see it. 

“Hey.” Zayn says quietly, just to Liam. Liam turns to look at him and is met with a soft smile. Too soft for someone has threatening as Zayn should be. “You’re slowing down a bit there.”

Liam manages an apologetic smile back, purposefully taking bigger and quicker steps. He waits until Zayn’s smile fades and his glance drops to the snow beneath them looking away, turning back to face Niall’s back. 

_One step at a time_ , Liam tells himself. _That’s all it takes_.

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

It’s been six days - well, Liam isn’t entirely sure how long it’s been. But Niall seems confident, and do not question him because he has spent five nights with Louis’ cock pressed against his ass and he’s counted every minute of it so he knows he must be right. 

Niall’s mentioned that he nearly went for it one night, thought reaching down Louis’ pants and wanking him off would be better than being poked in the tail bone by Louis’ boner any longer, and Louis had squeaked so loudly in protest at this that he’d scared some birds away. 

Liam’s sleeps, on the other hand, have been peaceful. Zayn is proving more pleasant to sleep with than anyone else he’s ever known, including Harry, who is the cuddliest person in the seven kingdoms. He falls asleep every night with Zayn pressed firm up against him, face tucked into the back of Liam’s neck and his free hand resting on Liam’s stomach. 

And, okay, maybe Liam woke up to something poking him in the back on their fourth morning. _Maybe_. He thinks it was probably just Zayn’s hand or the way his coat was sitting or something.  

“You know,” Zayn starts, interrupting Liam’s train of thought as he struggles with each step. “I think it’s okay if you sit this one out.”

Liam slows to a complete stop, glaring up at Zayn with conviction. When another long moment passes without either of them speaking, Liam raises his bound wrists, frustrated eyes not averting from Zayn’s as he does. 

“How am I supposed to do that when you’ve got me—“ Liam jerks his hands over his shoulder suddenly, and Zayn stumbles in the snow, slipping down the hill face, still with his right hand wrapped amongst the other end of Liam’s rope. Liam’s frown disappears instantly, replaced with a pleased smirk. “— attached to you?”

Zayn smirks back as he straights himself up, unraveling the rope once, twice, giving Liam an extra few inches of leeway.

“I was just trying to be polite.” Zayn tells him, his eyes hooded as he looks down at Liam. He’s a quite a few paces ahead of him, having made it to the top of the small snowy hill without struggling like Liam has been. He blames it on the fact that his hands are tied together. It’s definitely not because he’s tired. Because he isn’t. 

“I can help. I’m—“ Liam sighs, frustrated. His stubborn insistence to remain steely and aggressive is ruined by the way Zayn is staring at him right now, and Liam can’t quite put his finger on what the look means but it stops him in his tracks before he can say something rude. “Thank you.”

“Come on then.” Zayn chirps, turning away from Liam once more. “If we don’t find something soon, you’ll starve. ’N then you really will be useless.”

The way Zayn’s pace has slowed doesn’t go unnoticed by Liam, who struggles to the top of the hill, stepping faster than normal until he’s side-by-side with Zayn, rope slack between them. He’s more conscious of his breathing, now that they’re so close, with no audible distractions to the sound of it. He tries to steady his breath, tries to swallow the shallowness of it, but it’s no use. He’s not sure if he’s more predominantly exhausted or nervous, but he’s certainly both, and Zayn has probably noticed.

“I still don’t think we should’ve left Niall and Louis off on their own.” Liam huffs. 

“Louis knows what he’s doing.” Zayn assures him. “And Niall can’t exactly wander.”

“So we’re going to pretend we don’t both fully believe that Louis has let him off the leash, are we?” 

Zayn catches Liam’s smile, meeting it with one of his own as he shakes his head.

“Doesn’t mean I’m untying you.” Zayn replies finally, tugging lightly on Liam’s restraints for good measure.

“Wasn’t asking to be untied.” Liam replies, matter-of-factly. He will leave if he gets untied, and they both know that. Maybe he won’t fight Zayn much, maybe he won’t kill him to ensure his own safety - but he’ll certainly run. 

It does cross Liam’s mind that if he happens to escape, Niall may not come with him. But that’s a bridge he’ll cross when— if — he comes to it. 

“See any rabbits?” Zayn asks, sighing as if he already knows the answer. 

“No.” 

Zayn stops suddenly, Liam nearly stumbling over himself as he realises it.

“Here.” Zayn takes Liam’s hands in his own, positioning them at chest height in between the two men. He loosens the knots restricting Liam before unwinding his own wrist from the rope a few more times. The length between Zayn and Liam is now a limp six meters. “We can cover more ground this way.”

Liam nods wordlessly, though he doesn’t move as Zayn steps away from him, turning his back and carefully treading through the snow in search of something, anything worth eating. Liam stares at Zayn’s back, slim and covered in layers fur paddings, for the time it takes him to let out three deep breaths, before turning away himself. 

He knows his purpose at this point is more to point something out to Zayn if he sees it, but he knows already that he won’t stop there. He wants to catch something, if not just to prove how much he’s really capable of, even with his hands tied. 

As Liam walks, steps slow and silent, he wills himself not to turn around. He isn’t sure what it is, but he feels a force, an intangible pull, a voice in his head telling him to look at Zayn. Just one look, just a quick glance, to check on him. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he’s focused on the task at hand and he will stay that way until he sees it through. 

He wonders how much longer he’ll have to live like this. Walking nearly all day, hunting for food, sleeping in damp caves between two wildlings, living amongst the snowy mountainous terrain. If they had killed Zayn and Louis when they had a chance, they’d be back at Castle Black by now. Lord Commander Mormont would have congratulated them on a job well done, Liam would be training the new recruits while Phantom watches from nearby, and Niall would be stealing food from the cockier rangers when they weren’t looking. 

But they didn’t kill Louis and Zayn. And in spite of everything, for reasons he can’t quite put his finger on, Liam is glad for that. 

“Liam!” Zayn’s voice is cautious, tentative, and when Liam turns around, he almost doesn’t see anything beyond Zayn and the terrified look in his eyes. Almost. 

A large, grey wolf, about the size of Phantom when he was six months old, suddenly lurches at Zayn. Zayn has his hand over his shoulder, reaching for his crossbow, but the wolf knocks him down instantly, tackling him to the snow with a sickening thud. The sound springs Liam into action, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s charging at the wolf.

The wolf’s snarls mix with Zayn's calls for help as Liam ducks his head, tackling the wolf shoulder first, bound hands by his side. He lands half on top of the wolf, half on the snow, and he’s definitely fucked his neck up but the primary point of concern is that Zayn is now safe out of harms way. The wolf lunges at Liam now, teeth bared and growling, paws swiping at the side of Liam’s head. Vision blurred, Liam reaches for Zayn, reaches for anything he can use to defend them, and feels the thin line of an arrow in his palm. 

Liam pulls the arrow from Zayn’s quiver, and with one swift movement, he thrusts his hands forward, the arrow piercing the wolf’s belly and going all the way through to the other side. The wolf howls in pain, but with one final kick from Liam, it falls silent, landing on it’s side in the snow next to them.

Liam chest heaves as he pants, nearly out of breath from the struggle, but when he opens his eyes, his remaining breath is knocked out of him entirely. Because somehow, through all the commotion, he’s ended up falling on top of Zayn. 

He stares blankly down at Zayn for a moment, their bodies pressed flush against each other, Zayn’s ragged breath warm against Liam’s face. 

“Thanks.” Zayn breathes, and if Liam wasn’t staring at his lips he doesn’t think he would’ve heard it. But he is staring, and he can’t stop. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Felt like I did.” Liam replies, voice equally as breathy and hushed as Zayn’s, as if they afraid of someone else hearing them, except that there’s no one else around. 

He feels his heart hammering still, beating against his rib cage and pulsing alongside Zayn’s, their chests pressed flush together and faces mere inches apart. 

Zayn’s lips are pink, Liam notices. More pink than he would expect from someone who’s laying in the snow, and they look alive and soft and—

“Zayn!”

Liam ignores it for a moment, and he thinks maybe he’s imagined hearing a voice at all, because Zayn doesn’t react either. He just lays still under Liam’s weight, the only movement of his whole body being the thudding of his chest against Liam’s. 

“Zayn! Liam!” Louis calls again, this time louder and more insistent (as if Louis could possibly get louder or more insistent). “You boys okay down there?”

Liam looks up from Zayn’s lips finally, meeting his gaze with a shaky breath. He hasn’t quite calmed himself from the events just passed, adrenaline still pumping through him and filling him with the false idea that he can do anything in this moment. Anything.

“Fine.” Zayn calls back, though Liam doesn’t think it was quite loud enough for Louis to hear. He’s thankful for the sake of his own hearing, though. 

Snapped out of his reverie by Zayn’s voice, Liam rolls off the smaller man and onto the snow. Zayn scrambles to his feet first, reaching out a hand to Liam that Liam takes without a second thought, though Zayn doesn’t pull him up so much as he does make himself an anchor, feet planted into the ground as Liam uses his own strength to gain the leverage required to stand. 

“You saved my life.” Zayn says, tone almost disbelieving. 

“You spared mine.” Liam retorts quietly. It’s only now that he realises he's still holding Zayn’s hand in his own. He drops it as swiftly as he drops his gaze, staring down at the snow beneath his feet bashfully, his cheeks flushing despite the cold. “More than once.”

“Everything alright, brother?” Niall asks, trotting down the final steps of the hillside until he’s standing by Liam’s side. Not like he suspected any less, but Liam can’t help but notice that Niall’s restraints have mysteriously disappeared. _Or not-so-mysteriously_ , he thinks as he glances at Louis. 

“We’re okay. We’re fine.” Liam assures him, though he nuzzles his head gently against Niall’s shoulder. The restrained man’s version of a hug. 

“You managed to fight off and kill a wolf literally with your hands tied.” Louis exclaims, staring blankly at Liam’s hands. “That’s fuckin’ incredible, that!”

“It’s no big deal.” Liam blushes. 

“You’re a hero.” Niall claps one of his (free and unrestrained) hands on Liam’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. 

“Really, guys.” Liam’s proper flushed now, whole face hot as all three sets of eyes are on him. “Let’s just get a move on, get this wolf back to the cave before more find us.”

After much complaining and insisting he’s too weak, Louis begrudgingly slings the dead wolf over his shoulder, legs hanging next to his face as they trudge down the hill, back the way they’d come. Niall runs ahead to be next to Louis, chattering to him about something that Liam can’t quite make out and doesn’t really care to. 

“Thanks, again.” Zayn says quietly, once Niall and Louis are again out of earshot. “Really. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead.”

Then he smiles at Liam, shaky and tight-lipped, though Liam feels the warmth behind it. And with that, he jogs ahead to catch up to the other two, leaving Liam with a dumb look on his face and a relentless pounding in his chest. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Liam is sure they’ve been walking around in circles. The white expanse, the cold air, the mountains, Zayn’s footprints alongside Louis’ slightly smaller tracks ahead of him in the snow, they look the same as they have the last few days. Weeks? How long has it been that they’ve been walking?

His legs are heavy, heavy and so tired. He watches himself walk, watches his feet pick up just enough to take another step before dropping again, left, right, left, right. And he’s hungry - _so_ hungry. He feels empty, and every drop of water they drink hits his stomach like there’s never been anything else in there before. He can’t even imagine how Niall must be feeling. Louis and Zayn have been keeping them fed, hunting down animals frequently enough to keep all four of them alive, but there just isn’t enough to sate their hunger. There’s nothing, no sign of other life, just snow, so much fucking snow, and Liam has been staring at miles upon miles of it for however long it’s been but, he still thinks it’s beautiful. It’s just _tiring_. 

He has nothing driving him on but sheer will power, and even that is waining at this point. He looks to Zayn every few minutes, looks at his expression and his body language and the way he steps, walks, but really, Liam isn’t even sure what he’s looking for. He’s just looking, trying to find something to fix on. 

Liam watches his own legs for a few minutes longer, eyes blinking open and shut as he does, watching each step until his eyes start to blur out of focus. His head stays down, dropped, vision blurred as he watches the shapes move, slowly, so slow, and maybe they’re slowing down, maybe they’ve stopped, Liam can’t tell. 

Liam’s whole body jerks suddenly, his arms being gently pulled and it takes Liam a moment to realise, even after lifting his head and blinking a few times, that Zayn is staring at him. Zayn tugs on the ropes again, more forceful than last time, and if Liam could see Zayn a bit clearer right now, he might recognise the look of concern and omnipresent sincerity on his face.

“Liam.” Zayn speaks, but his voice sounds far away. Liam wants to get closer, makes himself walk fast, _legs move faster,_ because Liam needs to be closer because Zayn is speaking to him. 

“Liam.” Zayn repeats, dropping his head a little to meet Liam’s falling gaze. “Are you okay?”

Liam nods instantly, Zayn’s words sounding louder and more present in his mind now.

“Is he alive?” Liam hears Louis’ voice but it barely recognises in his brain. He stares at Zayn, blinking a few times until everything’s back in focus. Eyes, big and brown and round and familiar. _Familiar_ , after only days. 

“I’m fine.” Liam manages, clearing his throat and straightening his spine out so that he’s taller than Zayn again. He realises now that the other three have stopped walking, Niall beside him with his bound hands outreached, reaching for Liam. “I’m okay.”

Zayn nods, though he looks relieved only fleetingly before he returns to his previous state of concern. 

“Really, really fine.” Liam assures them, taking a few sure steps to prove it. It takes a lot of effort and even more concentration, but he manages it, and his head is starting to clear up now. 

Louis starts walking again, nodding his head for Zayn to catch up to him, which he does with a few quick steps. Liam reaches out to Niall, whose hands are still outstretched, taking his right hand in Liam’s left.

They take a few steps in silence, and Liam knows that Niall wants to hold onto his hand but given the nature of their restraints it makes it nearly impossible. Liam feels better now, makes the concerted effort to keep his head up and focus on their surrounds, on the back of Zayn’s head in front of him, rather than the ground. He’s okay. He’s fine. 

“How far off are we?” Niall asks, not at all trying to disguise the whine in his voice. “If the King Beyond the Wall is going to dismember me and eat my bits, I don’t think he’ll appreciate how much weight I’ve lost from all this bloody walking.”

Louis and Zayn glance at each other, and though it’s fleeting, it lingers enough for Liam to catch it, and it’s meaningful enough for Liam to make a mental note of it.

They don’t answer at first, and for a moment, Liam expects them not to. They’ve been talking to each other for the better part of the last half hour, voices hushed enough that Liam can’t make out what they’re saying, no matter how hard he tries.

“Not all that far.” Louis answers after a long moment, turning his head to face them. 

Liam rolls his eyes at the vague response (once he knows that Louis can’t see him). Wildlings are excellent trackers and have a frighteningly expert knowledge of the North - especially when it comes to finding their way from point A to point Mance. They know how far out they are. They’re giving a vague answer on purpose. 

Liam’s too tired to care about why right now. 

Niall slows his steps, dropping back a few paces so that he’s level with Liam. 

“How’re you doing?” He asks in a hushed voice, giving Liam a look of genuine concern. Liam thanks the Old Gods and the New for the thousandth time that Niall is here with him right now. He thinks he may have flung himself off a mountain top if he wasn’t. 

“I’m not sure.” Liam tells him honestly. His legs are still aching a little, his wrists sore where the rope has been rubbing, and his head is a bit foggy still, but mostly he’s just worried. Not scared, he tells himself. Worried. 

A silence falls between them, not even Louis and Zayn talking to each other anymore. 

“It’s the best of a bad situation.” Niall comments, gesturing with bound hands to Zayn and Louis, a few paces in front of them. “They aren’t all bad.”

“Just because they haven’t killed us yet or removed any limbs, doesn’t make them _good._ ” Liam grumbles in response, making sure to keep his voice down. He feels bad for saying it, really - Liam hasn’t been held hostage before, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t supposed to be this… pleasant. 

“Do you think our brothers will find us?” Liam asks, voice even more hushed than before.

“I doubt Greg is looking for us.” Niall muses. “Harry maybe. But how would he know we’re missing?”

Liam doesn’t dignify Niall’s comment with a response, only glaring at him. 

“Ohhhh,” Niall grins, the shit-head. “You meant the Night’s Watch?”

“Yes, Niall.” Liam replies with a huff. “I meant the Night’s Watch.”

He knows Niall did it on purpose, knows that Niall knew exactly what Liam meant when he said ‘brothers’. He’s not an idiot, Niall - he’s got an agenda and Liam has known all about it ever since they met five months ago. Sometimes it’s more subtle than others - sometimes Niall straight up tells Liam that he wants to abandon the Watch and break his oath. Other times, like now, Niall says things that niggle away at Liam, little comments and implications that Liam will think about that night when he’s trying to sleep. 

Niall is a lot smarter than people give him credit for. 

“No.” Niall answers finally, no longer joking. “No, I think it’ll be a long while before they come looking for us, Liam.”

Liam hates how much he agrees with him. 

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

“Alright!” Louis announces so suddenly that Liam nearly falls over with shock. Zayn seems to sense his surprise, tugging hard on his restraints to hold him up. Liam thanks him with a silent nod and a smile. “I’m fucking sick of this silence, let me tell ya.”

His declaration is met with more silence from the other three, almost as if he didn’t speak at all. They continue to step through the snow, right, left, right left, wordlessly. Liam isn't sure about the other two, but he’s mostly just doing it to piss Louis off more. Which, well, it’s really amusing to watch, to be honest. 

“Wow, don’t all jump to talk at once.” Louis turns around to face Zayn and Liam, raising his eyebrows at them pointedly.

“What d’ya want us to talk about, Louis?” Zayn asks him, clearly amused.

“I’m a fair leader. We’ll take a vote.” Louis sniffs. 

Zayn cocks at eyebrow at him, turning his head to Liam and mouthing _‘leader?’_ with a smirk. Liam bites his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Liam’s father, decorated Lord of a powerful house that had a bastard son.” Louis starts, counting off on his fingers. “Weaponry, and all it’s deadly glory. Liam’s sexy brother, or, whether we think I can pull off a hairstyle like Zayn’s.”

Zayn reaches up to his hair subconsciously, running his fingers through his ponytail. Liam frowns as he looks back at Louis’ scruffy, ratty mop of hair. He definitely couldn’t pull it off. Zayn’s hair is far too luscious and… Whatever. It just wouldn’t suit Louis. 

“Why are half of the topics to do with me?” Liam realises.

“Horan has shared more than enough with us.” Louis asks, tugging lightly on Niall’s restraints to get his attention. Niall grins back at him dutifully. “As easy to crack open as a whore’s legs. Not you though, Snow.”

“We’re not gonna bite.” Zayn assures him, raising his hands defensively. The ropes attached to Liam’s wrists are looped around his wrists, the length of it linking their hands together. “Just trying to make this whole thing a little more pleasant.”

“Exactly!” Louis chirps brightly, voice carrying with the wind. “We’re gonna be stuck together a while, may as well make it good.”

Liam gets that, and he appreciates it - really. But he doesn’t want to talk about his father. He hasn’t wanted to talk about his father since the day he found out what had happened to him, and he that definitely isn’t changing just because they’re in the middle of nowhere with not much else to talk about.

“Liam’s brother,” Niall starts, Liam not missing the way he glances over his shoulder to get a look at Liam’s face. He feels every ounce of tension leave his body. Niall is an angel disguised as a human. “Liam’s brother is a fucking legend. Never met the guy. Never even met Liam before I took the Black. But everyone in the Seven Kingdoms has heard about Harry Stark.” He pauses and shakes his head with a small laugh. “And it’s only ever good things that people say.”

“No man can live up to that much hype.” Louis says indignantly. Liam has to resist the urge to laugh out loud.

“Harry is everything people say he is and more.” Liam interjects, almost rudely. All three of the other men turn to look at Liam, surprised at him. “He’s warm. And giving, and strong, and brave. Bravest man I ever knew.” He pauses, taking a moment to breathe in, out, slowly. “Even braver than our father, maybe.” Liam clears his throat suddenly, looking up at Zayn to find him looking back at Liam, eyes wide and curious. Genuinely interested. Liam’s gaze returns to the snow below him, watching his feet move one at a time, step, step. “Once, Harry told me he was going to get me legitimised as a Stark. No longer a bastard. I’ve… I’d never wanted anything more in my whole life. And Harry knew that. He wanted to give it to me more than anything. There was nothing in it for him, no glory or reward. He just wanted to do it because he knew it was what I wanted, what would make me happier than anything else.”

He feels all their eyes on him again, even though he isn’t looking at them. He didn’t mean to say this much. But Harry… Harry’s the kind of person that the whole world deserves to know about. He’s everything Liam wishes he was and everything Liam knows he never can be. 

“What happened?” Zayn asks gently.

“Harry meant well, but he’s an idealist. I've not been blessed with such optimistic hope. I knew it would never happen.” Liam scuffs his feet in the snow for a few steps, bitterly kicking and the thick, white fluff. “It wouldn’t have been allowed. His mother wouldn’t have allowed for it. I was— _am_ , a bastard. I need to be known as such. That’s why they give us the name Snow.”

He thought talking about Harry would be okay, that it would be a better alternative to talking about his father. But Liam should have known that everything leads back to his, leads back to Liam being a bastard. Because that’s what he is, and that’s what has determined everything that’s happened to him for his whole life. Liam Snow. Bastard of the North. The less impressive son of Des Stark. 

“Being a bastard sounds a lot like being a wildling.” Zayn muses. Liam had never thought of it like that before, but Zayn’s not wrong, he supposes. 

Liam looks up, eyes meeting Zayn’s, carrying his gaze for a moment longer than is normal. He breathes deeply, shakily, but Zayn isn’t breaking their eye contact, and neither is Liam. This isn’t safe - this is treacherous ground Liam is walking, and the look in Zayn’s eyes right now is one Liam has never seen before but he feels as though he knows what it means. 

It’s a sick thought, one Liam chastises himself for ever allowing himself to think. He can’t like Zayn. He can’t even _like_ Zayn, let alone like him like _this_. He is a brother of the Night’s Watch - he has an oath to keep, a realm to defend. And Zayn is one of the free folk Liam is defending the realm from. 

It would be a tragedy from any perspective, Liam tells himself as he finally breaks Zayn’s gaze, staring instead at the back of Niall’s head. _Would be_ , because it won’t ever come to pass. There is nothing, will be nothing, so long as Liam has control over his own actions. 

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

It’s dark. Liam looks around, though he doesn’t recognise his surroundings. It isn’t familiar, and though he can hardly see anything and definitely can’t hear anything, he still has a feeling. He feels unsafe. Like something isn’t right. 

Looking down, Liam is taken aback to see not his own body, but furry, black paws. He takes a step cautiously, watching intently as the paws - his paws - move, step, tendons twitching and wrists flexing. It’s not his body, not his hands, but it’s familiar. It’s Phantom - he is Phantom. 

He lifts his head again as he takes another step, looking around him and trying to take in his surroundings. He hears a voice, and it’s familiar but it’s distant, distant enough that he can’t quite determine who it is. 

And then, a hand on his shoulder. It’s threatening, it’s not comforting or friendly and though there’s nothing that follows it, Liam doesn’t like it, wants it to stop. It’s wrong, something is _wrong_. 

Liam wakes suddenly, sitting up with a start. His chest heaves, whole face wet with sweat as he pants, fixing his gaze on Zayn, who is standing over him. Liam stares at him, blinking as he forces his breath to slow down, slower, slow, calming himself back to normal. 

It was a dream. It felt far more realistic than that though, is the thing. Liam doesn’t dream often, but when he does, it’s of home and of Harry playing with their direwolves and of his father telling him he’s proud of him. It’s not like this, doesn’t leave him with a wrenching feeling in his stomach. Liam ponders the significance of it, eyes blinking as they go in and out of focus, though he isn't really _looking_ at Zayn anymore. He’s just staring, thinking, trying to comprehend what just happened and whether Phantom is okay. He’d assumed that Phantom had made his way back to Castle Black, but if that’s the case, why does Liam feel like something’s wrong?

“Hey. Bad dream?” Zayn asks with a concerned frown.

Liam nods wordlessly, mouth gaping slightly as he does.

“You’re alright now.” Zayn assures him, and if Liam wasn’t so startled, he would laugh at the irony of that statement. “Come on. We’ve gotta get moving again.” 

Liam nods again, closing his mouth and swallowing hard as Zayn reaches forward and hastily wipes the sweat from Liam’s forehead with his sleeve. Liam’s eyes remain trained to it, watching Zayn’s arm as it returns to his side. Liam’s sweat has dampened the fur, leaving it flat and wet. A few seconds later, Zayn lifts his arm again, extending it until his hand is in Liam’s, and before Liam has a chance to actually realise what’s happening, Zayn’s lifting him to his feet. 

Once he’s standing, glancing around the cave, he starts to feel better. The tight, nauseous feeling in his stomach fades as his gaze lands on Niall, tied in his restraints again and standing near the exit of the cave.

“Liam!” He calls with a warm smile that Liam can’t help but mirror. He jerks his head towards the bright morning awaiting them outside. “Need to take a piss before we go. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah.” Liam manages, his first word spoken since he woke up. 

Louis and Zayn lead the way, walking Liam and Niall a few feet away from the cave until they reach a slight drop. 

“Take it away, boys.” Louis smirks, gesturing in front of him. “We won’t peek, promise!” 

Liam rolls his eyes at Louis, though it isn’t with rude intent. He and Niall take an extra few steps forward, distancing themselves from the other two boys as they both use bound hands to pull their cocks out, and though Louis had promised he and Zayn wouldn’t peek, that apparently doesn’t stop Niall, who glances down at Liam’s dick far longer than is normal, and gives him an impressed nod. Liam would blush, but honestly, he’s grown used to it, and the embarrassment caused by this situation stopped hitting him months ago, around the seventh time that Niall did it.

“So.” Niall starts, and Liam sighs already. He has an awful feeling he knows where this conversation is headed. Call it an educated guess. To Niall’s credit, as least his voice is hushed. “Zayn.”

Liam glares at Niall out of the corner of his eye, careful not to draw attention to them. Louis and Zayn are deep in conversation themselves and standing at least six feet away, but that doesn’t mean they won’t notice something suspicious going on.

“What about him?” Liam replies, stubbornly avoiding Niall’s gaze. 

“Are you gonna go for it?”

“Are you serious, Niall?” Liam whispers aggressively. He shakes his cock once before tucking it back into his pants. 

“You should.” Niall whispers back. “Just do it. All in. No one’s gonna know.”

“I took a _vow._ ” Liam angles himself to face Niall better, lowering his voice even more. “And he’s a wildling.”

“It’s obvious that you both like each other.” Niall shoots back, and when Liam looks up at him, he’s not met with the look of amusement and teasing he thought he would be - instead, Niall looks _genuine_.

Liam takes a step back, suddenly very interested in the drop of the terrain below them and the way the snow falls when he kicks it. 

“It will pass.” Liam insists stiffly.

“So you do admit that you like him?”

“Of course I like— Don’t do this, Niall.” Liam whispers sternly, turning to glare at Niall for extra emphasis. “This situation is… _bizarre_ enough with your help.”

“I don’t think it’s that bizarre.” Niall shoots back with a shrug. 

“Really?” Liam replies incredulously, voice still hushed. “We’re tied up, being walked through the mountains by two wildlings who, admittedly, are more friends to us than anyone else I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

Niall is silent for a moment as he finishes peeing. He just stares off into the distance, biting his lip thoughtfully and not tucking himself back into his pants. 

“Yeah. That is a little bizarre.” Niall admits after a long while.

Liam shakes his head a little as he turns back, walking in small steps towards Zayn, who’s waiting patiently a few feet away.

“But a good bizarre!” Niall calls after him. 

Niall thankfully doesn’t pester Liam about it any further for the remainder of their day. However, Liam isn’t entirely sure he prefers the way Niall keeps giving him clearly meaningful looks every 10-15 minutes, and every time Liam and Zayn so much as breath in each other’s direction. 

If Liam wasn’t critically analysing every interaction or thought he has about Zayn before, he definitely is now. 

He really wishes Niall would find a hobby or something. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

From then, shit really starts to go downhill. 

It’s not that anything _bad_ happens - but, oh, it’s so bad. 

Liam starts noticing things. Like that Zayn’s hair, before he ties it up and out of his face in the mornings, somehow manages to sit like it’s perfectly styled despite being slept on for several hours. And Zayn’s eyes, how lovely they are, especially when they light up as he smiles. And that his body is actually quite slim under all his layers of fur, something Liam noticed when he saw Zayn redressing himself one morning when he thought everyone else was asleep. And that Zayn is easy to talk to, easier than one should be when they’re literally _holding you hostage_ and walking you to your potential death, and—

Fuck. 

This is definitely not what Liam needs, not what any of them need. Not when he’s taken a vow to not do specifically what it is that he wants to do. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? He wants to do it. He wants to be around Zayn, and talk to Zayn, and wants to _kiss_ him, which is just, literally the worst thing Liam could have had happen to him. Getting involved with anyone would be against his oath as a brother of the Night’s Watch, the Watch he’s dedicated his life to, but getting involved with a _wildling -_ that’s a beyond terrible idea. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He decides he’s going to ignore it. He can definitely do that, can surely will himself to block out these thoughts and feelings that he _definitely does not want to be having_ , because things have actually been going… well? Niall seems happy, seems to be enjoying the company of Louis and Zayn both, and neither of them have had any grievous injuries or been placed in serious danger, and if this is going to be how Liam spends his last days before getting unceremoniously slaughtered, then he thinks he’d be okay with that. 

So it’s really important to Liam that he doesn’t fuck this up.

He starts looking at their surroundings more often. If he’s looking at the sky above them, or the ground below them, or the birds flying noisily overhead, then he’s not looking at Zayn. And, honestly, looking at Zayn is a recipe for disaster, because when Liam looks at Zayn he feels like he’s digging a hole, getting himself deeper and further down and away from steady ground.

It’s decidedly easier to look at the surroundings when the sky looks the way it does right now. The sun is starting to drown in the snowy horizon, its rays illuminating the wispy clouds in gradient patches of purple and pink. There’s a soothing stillness to it all, a sharp contrast to the reality of their situation - one which Liam is still aptly trying to ignore. Liam feels it washing over him, feels the burning red leave a trail of warmth all over every patch of available skin, and if he closes his eyes, he almost feels like everything might be perfect.

The snow underfoot looks a rosy shade of pink in this light, everything in Liam’s eye line boasting mystical colours and creating the illusion of a calm, peaceful night ahead. 

Louis walks ahead of Liam, a mere silhouette at this point, trudging through the snow at a faster pace than normal. He usually likes to be settled in the night’s resting place by the time the sun goes down, his current haste reflective of that fact. 

Liam thinks he can hear him talking to himself, ranting animatedly, probably about how they’re all fucked if they don’t find somewhere to sleep soon and if the others fall behind it’s not his fault. He does this a lot - rambles with no greater purpose, and though Zayn is usually walking beside him, in his absence he—

Zayn. 

Liam’s head is turning before his greater judgement has a chance to stop him, gaze falling upon a bulky, silhouetted figure with two ponytails and piercing eyes. He hasn’t said anything in a while, Liam realises, though the faint remnants of awestruck wonderment as he smiles at Liam give him away. It wouldn’t be the first time Liam has caught Zayn so lost in a moment of sheer appreciation for a beautiful landscape that he’s unable to speak.

Liam smiles back at him, returns his look of respect and admiration, and glad in spite of himself that Zayn has as much an appreciation of these seemingly simple things as he does.

Zayn doesn’t say anything to Liam, doesn’t engage with him further beyond the warm smile that fades as he begins jogging ahead, past Liam until he’s by Louis’ side. He slings a thickly padded arm around Louis’ shoulder, and if he says something to him, Liam doesn’t hear it.

Liam turns around again, this time to look at Niall. Niall doesn’t notice - just continues to look off slightly to his right. Though it doesn’t appear that he’s actually looking at anything - simply _looking_ , chewing his lip thoughtfully, eyebrows scrunched together. Liam slows his pace enough that Niall eventually catches up to him, gaze still fixed on the distant horizon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Liam sighs happily, contentedly staring up at the sky as the reds fade to dull pinks. 

“I’ve barely noticed, if I’m honest.” Niall responds, twisting his neck to look around them as if he’s just realised that they’re outside. 

“You okay?”

“Been thinking.” Niall admits.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Liam jokes, biting back a giggle as he bumps his arm into Niall’s.

Niall ignores him, dropping his head to look at the ground. He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, and though he’s silent now, Liam doesn’t speak either, leaving room for Niall to inevitably vocalise the thoughts that are clearly occupying his mind. That sort of thing doesn’t usually happen to Niall - usually he doesn’t stew on things for more than half a second. 

“Y’know,” Niall looks up at Liam, waits for him to look back before continuing. “I think I’m gonna stay.”

“Stay where? What?”

“With them.” He nods his head towards Louis and Zayn, who are now about ten feet ahead and still walking with their arms around each other. “Join the free folk.”

The revelation isn’t so unexpected, if Liam’s honest, but he still finds himself nearly recoiling in shock. He frowns, first at Niall and then at the ground beneath them, blinking a few times as he tries to wrap his head around Niall’s words.

“Are you…” Liam’s voice trails off, no intention of finishing the sentence. He doesn’t know what he was going to ask. He has too many questions to decide on just one right now.

“I think you should stay with me. With us.” Niall tells him, his expression fitting of something much less significant than what it is that he’s saying. Typical of Niall, Liam thinks. Always minimising things to the point that absolutely nothing is capable of seeming daunting. 

“That’s…” Liam shakes his head. He can’t. “We can’t do that, Niall.”

“Come on, let’s just give it a go!” Niall insists, like he’s asking Liam to try wine for the first time and not asking him to break a sacred vow and throw himself in amongst one of the most dangerous groups of people in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. “Even if we change our minds - or don’t, in your case - we can get information from them and use what we hear to help the Watch, help the realm.”

Liam is terrified at the fact that it’s actually starting to sound like a good idea. Maybe he’s sleep deprived. Or delusional from hunger. 

“It’s a bad idea.” Liam insists in spite of his own internal monologue. “Terrible.”

Niall doesn’t reply for a moment, just walks alongside Liam in silence, and for a moment, Liam is nearly disappointed to think that Niall has abandoned his argument that easily.

“In my whole 21 years,” Niall starts. “I’ve seen so many great things, and met heaps of people. But compared to this…” Niall smiles vaguely, tipping his head back to look at the vibrant sky above them. He looks happy, so _happy_ and Liam realises with a pang in his chest that maybe he’s never seen his best friend truly happy until now. “My whole life, all of that, I wasn’t even living. Not even close.”

“I know what you mean.” Liam admits, more to himself than to Niall. “I feel that too.”

“Then we have to!” Niall urges, grabbing onto Liam’s upper arm. “Liam, we’ve got to do this. Let’s just do it.”

“I took a—“

“I know, I know.” Niall sighs, though in spite of what Liam expects, it isn’t with annoyance. He drops his grip on Liam’s arm, hands falling back to rest in front of him again. “You took a vow. So did I. But men break their vows all the time. The Night’s Watch are nothing more than a bunch of bitter old men and thieves and rapists, and all of them fucking hate us.”

“Niall, I can’t.” Liam shakes his head in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut. He isn’t sure which he wants more; to want to break his vows without remorse or guilt, or to entirely squash the desire to break them at all. All he knows is he _wants_ , he wants so much and in a way that he’s never allowed himself to want before. 

“You don’t owe them anything, Liam. You certainly don’t owe them this much.” Niall’s voice is pleading, but Liam remains silent, his throat constricted and face hot. “You don’t owe them your happiness.”

Niall isn’t a selfish man, and to suggest that he ever has been would be an injustice to his character. Liam knows he isn’t saying these things to convince Liam so that he can get what he wants. It’s not that black and white. Niall is doing this more for Liam than he is himself. He’s chasing a happiness that Liam has his whole life been afraid to go after, and maybe… 

Maybe the best way to thank Niall for that is to let him. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Louis declared “bed time” quite a while ago, and Niall has been snoring for what feels like an hour at least, but Liam’s still awake. He knows Zayn is too, feels him shift behind him in a restless way that he never does when he’s sleeping. When he sleeps, he’s almost perfectly still, the only movement of his body being the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the occasional twitching of his left hand as it rests on Liam’s stomach. 

The thing is, Zayn is what has been keeping Liam awake. Not his physical presence and his shifting against Liam’s back, but the thought of him, the way he looks at Liam and the way Liam knows he looks at Zayn, and whether or not Niall was right.

It’s not often that Niall’s right. But he’s seemed more sure of this, whatever it is, than he has anything else in the whole time Liam’s known him. 

He owes himself this much, Liam decides. He owes it to himself to at the very least give this a shot and open himself up to the possibility that this is exactly what he’s always wanted. 

Because right now, it feels like it is. 

“Zayn.” Liam whispers, before he has a chance to second-guess himself.

“Liam.” Zayn whispers back instantly, almost as though he spoke before he’d heard Liam’s voice. Liam’s name hangs in the air like it’s about to be followed by something important. It isn’t, though the silence that follows is poignant and heavy.

“Am I keeping you up?” Liam asks finally.

“No. Can’t sleep.” Zayn replies quietly. 

Maybe Zayn is right where Liam is. Maybe he’s being kept awake by the same thoughts and the same ‘what-ifs’ that are plaguing Liam’s minding and keeping him from a restful night.

Maybe. But Liam has never been that lucky before.

“What’s Winterfell like?” Zayn asks suddenly, voice hushed and breathing warm air onto the back of Liam’s neck. 

“It’s…” Liam wants to answer, he does, but he doesn’t know how. His life in Winterfell, with his family, feels distant to him. It feels like another life, lived by a different person, a story that was read to him - except that Liam has all the memories. Every single moment, every day, burned into his mind like it was yesterday. 

He doesn’t know how to answer, doesn’t know how to talk about it, as much as he wants to. 

“Louis told you that we aren’t sure of where we’re from.” Zayn says, apparently realising that Liam isn’t going to finish his sentence. “That we don’t know our parents, but we must be brothers.” Liam stifles the soft laugh ready to come out. “I don’t have the heart to tell him… my father was from Astapor. Don’t know who my mum was, I think she died when I was a baby. But, I had sisters. _Only_ sisters.”

Liam remains silent as Zayn pauses, takes a few deep breaths. Of course Louis and Zayn aren’t brothers - that isn’t shocking news to Liam. And it also definitely isn’t shocking to him that Zayn has kept that fact from Louis for all this time, maybe years, just for the sake of Louis feeling like he has family. 

“I remember them being killed. I don’t know how, I was only a baby. I don’t remember anything else. Just Astapor, and my father’s face, and my sisters, their faces when they—“ He cuts himself off, and Liam feels his whole body stiffen. He drops his hand to find Zayn’s, clenched against Liam’s abdomen. Wrapping his hand around it, Liam feels Zayn breath out deeply against Liam’s neck. 

“This is a long way North to be for someone from Astapor.” Liam whispers. 

“I don’t know how I got out of Slaver’s Bay, all the way up ‘ere.” Zayn replies, and Liam hears the hint of a smile in his voice. “Baby can’t travel that far alone. Suppose I was sold or something.”

Liam knows Zayn won’t continue, knows that was the end of the story but he leaves a silence for Zayn to fill anyway, just in case any half-hearted musings or random anecdotes come to his mind. Liam doesn’t want to miss them. 

“You can’t tell Louis any of this, ever.” Zayn adds, and if Liam didn’t think he could be more amazed by Zayn’s kindness of spirit, he was wrong.

“Won’t.” Liam assures him, nudging Zayn’s legs with his own to reinforce his point. 

“I have a sister.” Liam begins, and he swears he feels Zayn’s arm tighten around his middle as he does. “She’s the first born, the first… non-bastard. She was born not long after me. Harry’s the youngest. Gemma, her name is.”

It’s been even longer since he’s seen Gemma than Harry. She’d been away when Liam left, visiting suitors in far away cities and Liam hadn’t even gotten to say a proper goodbye to her. He wonders now if he ever will.

“Their mother loved Harry and Gemma more than I’ve ever seen a mother love her children.” Liam takes a deep, shaky breath, recalls Anne and how she’d looked at her children. It was nothing like the way she looked at Liam. “She hated me, I suppose. For what my father did. For what I was.”

“I’m sure she didn’t hate you.” Zayn interjects. Liam ignores it - he knows he’s right, and knows that Zayn, bless him, is just trying to make Liam feel better, with no real weight behind his words. 

“Winterfell is beautiful.” Liam whispers softly, wistfully. “The castle is huge, and it snows all the time. Like something out of a dream.”

“Sounds like a great place to call home.”

“Home is—“ Liam falters, not sure of what to say next. He’d said the words without a way to finish them. He sighs, frustrated, and chews his lip thoughtfully. “It is my home, I suppose. Just never really felt… right.”

“Isn’t that how a home is supposed to feel?” Zayn asks, voice whispered and slightly confused. “Like, isn’t it supposed to feel right?”

“Maybe not for everyone.” Liam whispers back. He’s not sure why he’s saying it, not sure what purpose it’s supposed to achieve. But he’s saying it nonetheless. “Maybe not for me.”

“I don’t have a home.” Zayn says, almost as if he’s realising it for the first time. “I mean, I don’t have a _place_ where I _live_. And cook, and clean, and dance and curtsey and whatever else it is that you high born folk do in your houses.”

Liam proper giggles at this, a giggle that Zayn playfully shushes as Niall and Louis begin to stir a few feet away. 

“You have Louis.” Liam tells him, very quietly, once his giggling has died down.

“And you have Niall.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Zayn rebuts, and Liam isn’t quite sure that they’re on the same page, that his words have the same implication that Zayn’s do. He isn’t even sure what that implication is. 

“You’re a family, you and Louis.” Liam replies, thinking out loud more than anything. “And your free folk. That’s what it is, isn’t it? A family?”

“It is, I suppose.” Zayn ponders. 

“What’s it like?” Liam barely says out loud.

“It’s… It’s a wonderful feeling.” Zayn starts carefully. “The feeling of being free, like you can go anywhere you want to go, see anything you’d like. And no matter where it is that you go, you still feel like you belong.”

“That’s… really lovely.” Liam breathes, and Zayn’s hand stills on his stomach. Liam hadn’t even realised until he’d stopped that Zayn was moving his hand up and down, lightly tracing patterns through the fur on Liam’s coat. “I’ve… I’ve never had that before. The feeling.”

“Never?” Zayn asks, incredulous. Liam is glad that Zayn can’t see the way his cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

“Not really.” 

“Not in the South with your family? Or on the Wall with the other crows?”

“No.” 

“That’s no way to go through life, Liam Snow.” Zayn pauses as if he’s considering something, though even after a long moment, nothing comes. 

“What do you suggest?” Liam asks dryly, feeling instantly guilty for it. 

“We’ve got to find it.” Zayn decides suddenly.

“Find what?”

“Home. The feeling, like you belong.”

Liam has no idea what Zayn’s talking about, but his hands are starting to sweat despite the snow underneath him and the freezing chill hitting his face. 

“How do you find a feeling?” Liam muses, swallowing hard and wiping his pants roughly on his coat.

“Maybe it’s easier than you think.” Zayn tells him. 

Liam lets it go for a moment, considering Zayn’s words. He wants to help him. He wants Liam to feel like he _belongs_ somewhere, and, well, Liam’s starting to feel like that feeling is a lot closer than he first thought.

“I’m a crow.” Liam reminds him. “I didn’t think the free folk helped crows.”

“I don’t think you are. A crow, that is.” Zayn replies, voice soft and arm tight around Liam’s middle. “Not in your heart.” 

And Liam, well, when it comes from Zayn’s lips like that, beautiful and quiet and with a world of possibility behind it, Liam can’t help but believe it. He’s never believed in anything before, but he believes in this. 

 

 

/ / /

 

 

It’s their twenty-second day now, according to Niall, who seems far more sentimental about the whole experience than one should when they’ve been essentially kidnapped. 

Further on Niall’s decision to stay and embrace wildling life, he’s been heading out with Louis a lot. Liam isn’t entirely sure of what they do, but they stay gone for hours at a time. Most times they come back with animal carcasses slung over their slender shoulders, sometimes they don’t, but every time they return with ear-to-ear grins, one or both of them laughing stupidly at something that they never divulge to the other two. 

It’s nice, Liam thinks. A little unusual, perhaps, given that Liam is the only friend he’s ever known Niall to have, but any jealousy he may have is easily assuaged by the fact that Niall and Louis’ regular expeditions means that Liam gets left alone with Zayn. A lot. And for extended periods of time. 

“How’d you sleep last night?” Zayn asks Liam, breaking a peaceful silence that has lasted at least ten minutes. Peaceful silences are something that occur frequently when Liam and Zayn are alone, and though Liam often has the urge in him to fill them, to speak rapid-fire about stupid, meaningless things just for the sake of _someone_ talking, he knows Zayn often finds the silence comforting. He can tell by the way that Zayn’s face relaxes, a small smile playing on his lips as he mutely goes about his own business. So Liam bites his tongue. 

Zayn’s fiddling with something amongst his things, Liam notices, watching the way his slim hands work through tools and weapons, back hunched over and thighs resting on his heels. When a moment passes without Liam responding (Liam completely forgot the question, if he’s honest), Zayn lifts his head, looking over across the cave at Liam with a lock of hair falling in his face in a way that looks like it couldn’t possibly have been accidental. 

“Are you still having nightmares?”

Liam shakes his head, swallowing hard.

“No.” He replies. “Not since the last one.”

“Are you still worried about Phantom?” Zayn turns his head back to the mess in front of him, attempting to arrange it into some form of order. “That’s what the dream was about, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Liam nods, even though Zayn can’t see him. “I still am, I suppose. I just… I feel like maybe he isn’t safe.”

“We can try and find him.” Zayn suggests. “D’you think he’d be nearby?”

Liam shakes his head again, a slightly nauseous feeling rising in his stomach and up his chest.

“No. He’d have gone back to the Wall.” Liam clears his throat quietly. “And we can’t…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Zayn turns his head slowly, tentatively looking at Liam with a meaningful expression as though he knows exactly what Liam is thinking. It wouldn’t be the first time. Knowing what Liam’s thinking seems to be a unique talent of Zayn’s. 

Zayn abandons the now-slightly organised mess in front of him, pushing himself off the ground with his hands on his thighs. He moves over to Liam, slightly uneven and wobbly from sitting on his legs for so long. Once he reaches Liam’s side, he stands there wordlessly, staring down at Liam as though he expects him to do something.

Liam opens his mouth to speak, to ask what Zayn wants, but Zayn beats him to it.

“Stand up.” He instructs, though his kind smile makes it seem less like a command and more like a suggestion. 

Liam does as he’s told, lifting himself to his feet clumsily. His eyes are even with Zayn’s, standing about 10 inches apart. He can hear Zayn’s steady breath from this close, and after only two seconds, their breathing falls into synchronisation.

Zayn takes Liam’s bound hands in his own, not breaking eye contact with Liam until he turns Liam’s hands over so his palms are facing up. 

Liam drops his gaze too now, staring at his hands as Zayn gently pulls at the loops and knots, working for almost a minute in silence until the rope falls into Zayn’s waiting hands. Liam stays still for a moment, staring blankly at his empty wrists. He has red marks where the ropes had been, a result of nearly three weeks in bondage, and the cool air on the skin gives him a welcomed relief.

“There.” Zayn mumbles softly, and it’s not until then that Liam looks up at him, though he keeps his hands outstretched as if he’s expecting Zayn to tell him he’s kidding and tie him up again. Maybe he is.

“If you want to run, you can run.” Zayn tells him simply, answering a question Liam hadn’t asked out loud. “If you do, I trust you not to kill or seriously maim me on your way out. So…” He shrugs, tossing the ropes to the ground. 

“Wouldn’t know where to run.” Liam replies, the vagueness of his response not entirely purposeful. He drops his arms to his sides finally, the way they sit on either side of his body feeling strange and unfamiliar to him. He rolls his shoulders backwards, wiggling his fingers to regulate the blood flow through his hands. It feels like an indescribable relief, made even better by the fact that it was entirely unexpected.

“Thanks.” He adds, unable to find more meaningful words to express his gratitude. 

Zayn takes a few steps away from him now, towards a particularly smooth rock that Louis had claimed as his spot the night before. He looks up at Liam with a knowing smile, one that tells Liam that ‘you’re welcome’ without words. 

Liam walks towards Zayn, towards the rock, legs moving nearly independently of his body as Zayn sits himself on the left side of the rock, leaving a clear space next to him.

“So Niall,” Zayn starts, soft chuckle escaping his lips as Liam drops down next to him. “Niall seems to be adjusting well. To life out here.”

“Yeah.” Liam agrees, clearing his throat again. “You know, I find that very strange. Niall has always loved…” He gestures with hands, trying to find the point he wants to make. “being comfortable. Lots of food, a real bed, nothing too strenuous.”

“Strenuous?” Zayn scrunches up his nose, and Liam thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“Difficult.” Liam explains with a soft smile to counteract the patronising nature of what he’s saying. He’s never been particularly intelligent himself, but he has the advantage of being well-read and raised amongst a plethora of books and maesters. “Hard.”

Zayn nods.

“I think Niall’d make himself at home anywhere.” Zayn muses, cocking his head to the side to reveal the smooth, dark skin of his neck. Liam’s eyes remain fixed there, staring as Zayn continues. “Make friends with anyone. He’s adaptable.”

“Do you know Niall that well, or is he just that easy to read?” Liam questions, not meaning it to sound as aggressive as it does. 

Zayn looks at him pointedly, the amused smile on his face suggesting that he certainly didn’t interpret Liam’s tone to be offensive.

“Liam…” He nudges Liam in the side with his elbow. “We’re all kidding ourselves if we think we don’t know each other.”

“You don’t know me.” Liam smirks back, though the words feel false as they fall from his lips. 

“Maybe you think that.” Zayn replies, words deliberate and careful. “Maybe it seems that way. Truth is, I do. I do know you. And you know me better than anyone else ever did.” He pauses briefly, smirk mirroring Liam’s. “Except Louis.”

If Liam wasn’t staring at Zayn’s lips, he wouldn’t be sure if he’d stopped talking or not. His mind is static, all sounds distant and everything else completely fucking irrelevant, everything except him, everything except Zayn. He feels a wanting in a way he never has before, feels a pull in his chest that has him leaning forward, grabbing Zayn by the back of his neck with his now-free hands and pulling him in, gently yet swiftly, until their lips are pressed against each other.

Liam kisses Zayn, kisses him softly and slowly, and though he hasn’t done this before - not with a girl or a boy, no woman or man - it feels familiar. It feels like something Liam has been doing his whole life. 

Before Liam gets a chance to panic, to think _oh my god what have I done_ , he realises that Zayn’s lips are warm and pliant against his, and he’s tilting his head to fit his lips against Liam’s better, and it hits Liam like a slap in the face that Zayn is kissing him back, Zayn wants this, maybe just as much as he does. And though it was something that Liam already _knew_ , had already placed together through the looks Zayn has given him and the secrets shared and the reassuring pull of Zayn’s arms around Liam’s middle when Liam lays awake restlessly some nights, it still comes as a shock to him. He supposes he never considered himself to be lucky enough that something like this would ever be real to him.

The thought has barely finished crossing his mind before Zayn pulls back from him, creating just enough distance between their faces that he can look Liam in the eye, searching for silent reassurance. Liam stares back at him, eyes not leaving Zayn’s despite how badly he wants to kiss him again. He thought he wanted to kiss Zayn before, all the days they’d walked side-by-side and nights they’d slept cuddled up to each other, but now that Liam has tasted Zayn, has felt the softness of his lips on Liam’s own, it’s a whole new level of desire. It’s itching at him from the inside out, crawling through his skin and screaming to be heard. 

Zayn rests his left hand on Liam’s thigh, gripping with purpose, and before Liam can figure out who moved in first, they’re kissing again. It’s different this time, both of them knowing the other one wants it too having an obvious effect. Zayn seems desperate now, gripping onto Liam hard, digging his fingers in and sliding his tongue between Liam’s lips.

Liam moans involuntarily at the feel of Zayn’s tongue on his, soft and stuck in his throat as he clenches his fist in Zayn’s hair at the back of his head. Zayn responds ardently, moving his hand up Liam’s thigh and licking deeper into his mouth. Liam may not know what he’s doing, but Zayn certainly does, if the way Liam’s cock is responding is anything to go by.

“Could do this all day.” Liam mumbles, lips clumsily bumping against Zayn’s as he does. Zayn laughs, not mockingly but mischievously, giving Liam a quick peck on the lips.

“Snow,” his voice is low and throaty, making the hairs on the back of Liam’s neck stand up. “you have _no idea_ what’s still to come.”

He takes advantage of Liam’s momentary shock, sitting himself on Liam’s lap, legs framing Liam’s hips. He grinds down roughly, ass rubbing against Liam’s cock and Liam involuntarily jolts upwards in response with a high-pitched gasp. Zayn giggles again, pulling Liam in by the back of his neck until their lips meet. Both their faces are heavily stubbled, the friction of the thick hairs rubbing on Liam’s face and hurting just a little bit, but not enough for him to want to stop. He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to stop.

Liam has gotten himself off many times over the course of his 21 years, hushed and into his own hand while everyone else sleeps in their own bedrooms, but he’s never had anything like this. Just when he thinks he has Zayn figured out, knows all his moves and the way in which he grinds his hips, Zayn changes the game. He’ll bite down on Liam’s puffy bottom lip, or snake a hand in between them to grab at Liam’s erection, or pull on Liam’s hair to expose enough of the skin on his neck for Zayn to suck a mark there. It’s exhilarating and incredible, and the idea that Niall and Louis could return at any time is a distant worry in Liam’s mind, shrouded by the intense desire to rip off all their layers and fuck into Zayn, right here on the cave floor. 

“Have you—“ Liam kisses Zayn again, finding himself magnetised to his lips and unable to keep himself away for longer than a few seconds. “— done this before?”

Zayn pulls himself back a few inches, scanning Liam’s face for something that Liam can’t quite detect. 

“This…” Zayn’s voice trails off, his eyes falling to their crotches, which are pressed against each other, Liam’s hips still moving underneath Zayn’s. He hadn’t realised he was doing it until he saw it. “Have I fucked someone before?”

Liam swallows hard, nodding wordlessly and willing himself to stop moving his hips. It doesn’t work. 

“I have.” Zayn tells him honestly, rubbing his hands gently on the back of Liam’s head where his hair meets his neck. “I’ve fucked and I’ve been fucked.”

Knowing doesn’t make Liam feel any better, just makes his entire body burn with jealousy and his stomach drop like it’s being weighed down by something, and he’s not sure why he even asked. 

Zayn doesn’t speak on it any longer, leaning back in to reattach his lips to Liam’s. His hands travel down from Liam’s neck, moving until he has one bracing himself on either side of Liam’s broad shoulders. Liam pulls back a little, creating a distance between their lips that feels like miles, miles that Liam is desperate to cross. 

“You were right, you know.” Liam swallows over the lump in his throat, though it remains dry. “I haven’t… I am a… virgin.”

The word falls out of his mouth, heavy and awkward and Liam feels so silly just saying it. But Zayn, Zayn cups Liam’s face in his hands, pressing sweet, soft kisses to Liam’s left cheek and the tip of his nose. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs through his kisses, which travel down Liam’s neck to his collarbones and the dark smattering of hair below them. “It’s okay, Liam.”

Liam feels his breath catch in his throat, nearly choking on it as Zayn’s hand sneaks in between them, flattening over Liam’s crotch and pressing hard. 

“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” Zayn asks, voice rough and low, the sound of it alone causing Liam’s dick to twitch in his pants. He barks out a laugh, Zayn shifting on top of him.

“Of course I do.” Liam replies, hands wandering up Zayn’s back and flattening over his shoulder blades.

“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” Zayn tells him, carefully and, for the first time since their lips first touched, he’s not grinding down on Liam. The absence of it makes Liam’s cock ache, dull throbbing against his leg.

Liam nods again, this time wordlessly but it comes with a gentle, lingering kiss to Zayn’s full lips. 

“I want this.” Liam tells him, more sure of himself than he ever has been. It certainly feels like it, anyway. “I want you.”

“But you took a—“

“I don’t care.” Liam tells him, exasperated and finally understanding why Niall gets so frustrated with Liam all the time. 

Zayn kisses him again before standing up, lifting himself from Liam’s lap to stand in front of him. Without breaking his gaze from Liam, he shakes off his outer layers, pulling on his sleeves and stepping out of his pants. 

Zayn is slim - Liam has always known this, has been able to tell from the size of his wrists, how slender his fingers are. But under his clothes, he really is slim, especially in comparison to Liam. His torso is nearly completely hairless, with the exception of a soft trail of dark hark leading from his navel to the base of his cock. Soft, sun-hidden skin is pulled tight over his abs, the definition in the muscle just visible from years of training and fighting and working. His legs are skinny, thighs not much meatier than his calves, covered in dark, coarse hair. And his cock—

Liam takes a deep breath and drags his puffy bottom lip through his teeth as his eyes drag down to Zayn’s cock, hard and long against his stomach. Liam wants to grab Zayn by his hips, wants to pull him in close and put his mouth on him. Zayn’s hand twitches where it hangs at his side, Liam notices, eager to touch himself but not moving an inch.

Liam gets up hastily, nearly stumbling over himself as he rises to his feet. He takes his own coat off now, followed by his pants and every other layer, until he’s left in the same state as Zayn. He feels the cold air on his skin, icy and creating goosebumps all over his skin, but it doesn’t bother him. He holds Zayn’s gaze for a long moment, until Zayn breaks it, his roaming free over Liam’s naked body. 

He should feel exposed, vulnerable - he knows that. But he doesn’t. Zayn’s lingering stare is hungry, but it still feels comfortable as it returns to Liam’s eye line, both men taking a step forward towards each other. 

Liam’s eyes widen suddenly as he feels his own cock in his hand, thick and long and leaking at the tip. He takes a long, startled look at it, then at Zayn’s crotch, unblinking. 

“Is this going to work?” Liam bites his lip worriedly, voice shaking as much as his hands on his cock. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The size of Liam’s cock has never been an issue for him - mostly because he’s never had to put it inside someone. But now, looking at the length and thickness of it compared to Zayn’s slim waist, and the tight hole Liam knows is between his cheeks, it seems impossibly daunting. 

Zayn takes a shaky breath, in and out, and wraps his hands around Liam’s cock. 

“You won’t hurt me, Liam.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to Liam’s collarbone. “Couldn’t hurt me.”

Liam is a killer, a man of only 21 who has already taken lives and ruined others. He has fought, sword and fist and blood, and he has hurt. He has hurt so many, and though it was all in defence of the realm, in defence of Niall and all his other men, he still did it, without hesitation.

But not Zayn. He didn’t take Zayn’s life, even when he had so many chances to. 

Liam is a killer. Liam hurts people. But it will never be Zayn on the other end of his sword, so long as Liam can help it. 

Zayn’s hand is moving on Liam’s cock now, from the base to the tip, rubbing over Liam’s slick head before jerking swiftly back down. Liam’s whole body jerks forward, nearly crumpling into Zayn’s if not for his hands on Zayn’s hips keeping him balanced. He wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist, pulling them closer until Zayn’s hand is squished in between them, the movement of his hand slowed and restricted.

“Liam.” Zayn whispers into Liam’s ear. It sends shivers all through Liam’s body, his eyes squeezing shut and abs tensing. 

“Zayn.” He whispers back before taking Zayn’s lips in between his again, tongue swiping messily against Zayn’s bottom lip.

Their naked bodies are pressed together, one of Zayn’s legs in between Liam’s, hand still clumsily jerking on Liam’s cock. 

“How do we…” Liam’s voice is muffled and unintelligible, unable to stop himself from kissing Zayn long enough to speak a full sentence. “I— I don’t know how we—“

His cheeks flush as Zayn pulls pack, right hand moving from Liam’s cock to his hip. He grips the fleshiest bits on the side, squeezing gently, reassuringly. 

“Lots…” Zayn lifts his free hand to his mouth, sucking two fingers in. His cheeks hollow out as he does, and Liam blinks rapidly at the sight. It’s obscene and fucking beautiful, and he wonders if Zayn would look like that with Liam’s cock in his mouth instead. Zayn removes his fingers, now wet with saliva, and drops them back to his side. “… of this.” 

With the hand resting on Liam’s hip, he guides Liam’s left hand to Zayn’s arse, using both of their hands to spread his cheeks. Zayn’s wet hand disappears behind him as well, and Liam suddenly feels Zayn’s whole body tense in his grasp.

He holds Zayn close as Zayn fucks himself on his own fingers, Liam’s lips pressing kisses to Zayn’s throat as it hums with moans, low and content. 

“Fuck, Zayn.” Liam’s voice is gravelly as he squeezes harder on Zayn’s ares, pushing his hips flush against Zayn’s. 

“I want you.” Zayn tells him, voice lower than usual and eyes held steady on Liam’s. Liam’s heart feels like it’s about to explode from his chest. “I want you to fuck me, Liam Snow.”

He thinks he would give Zayn anything he wanted, anything he ever asked for. He wants to give him the whole damn world.

“C’mere.” Liam says quietly, pulling Zayn’s hand from between his cheeks. He pulls it up to his mouth, closing his eyes as he places a tender kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand at the top of his wrist. 

He pulls away from Zayn reluctantly, clumsily moving towards his carelessly discarded clothes a few feet away. He lays his coat down first, covering the rough floor of the cave, and layers Zayn’s clothes and the rest of his own around it.

“Such a romantic.” Zayn smirks, sauntering over Liam to place a gentle kiss on his lips. 

Liam wraps an arm around Zayn’s slender waist, moving them both together as he kneels onto the fur-covered floor beneath them. Zayn leans back on his own until he’s pressed flat against the floor, knees bent and feet pressed to the ground. 

Liam looks to move in and kiss Zayn again but hesitates, pulling back for a second to look. Zayn’s eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide making his eyes appear black. His chest is heaving, in synch with Liam’s own laboured breaths, and his cock is laying heavy against his stomach. Liam lowers himself, hands pressed on the ground either side of Zayn, until his face is hovering over Zayn’s crotch.

Zayn’s breath hitches as Liam’s breathes, warm and shaky, over his cock. He kisses the tip of Zayn’s cock gently at first, and then opens his lips enough to take the first inch of it in his mouth. It tastes salty, slightly unpleasant, but Liam doesn’t care. He wants to remember it, every last detail of it. He wants to sear it into his memory until he can never smell another smell or taste another taste again.

His mouth makes a wet, popping sound as pulls off, Zayn near-whining at the loss of the feeling of Liam’s lips. Liam moves up his body, planting soft kisses up Zayn’s torso, over his soft skin, his defined abs, his dark nipples. Zayn grabs the back of the hair on Liam’s head, lifting him up to join their lips together. Their kiss is messy, Liam’s tongue swirling around Zayn’s in his own mouth, tiling his head to the left a little more to deepen it, to allow Zayn’s tongue to push further into his mouth. 

Zayn pulls back after a moment, pushing gently on Liam’s chest. His fingers swirl through the curly hair there, eyes locked on Liam’s. 

“Are you ready?” Zayn asks.

Liam nods.

Zayn licks the palm of his right hand once, then spits in it discretely, saliva pooled in his hand as he moves it carefully between them, down until he reaches Liam’s cock. He wraps his hand around it, pumping once, twice, three times, coating Liam’s length in his spit. Liam’s arms are shaking, hands planted either side of Zayn’s head, as Zayn guides Liam’s cock forward, moving his hips until he reaches Zayn’s hole.

Liam hesitates, holding his breath until Zayn lifting his own hips up enough to push Liam’s cock inside him. He openly winces at the feeling of it, Zayn stretching around Liam’s considerable girth, but he continues to push himself down. Liam waits, afraid to move until he’s nearly entirely inside Zayn, only the last inch visible when he looks down to where they’re joined. 

“It’s okay.” Zayn reassures him, gripping his hands to either side of Liam’s hips, though his voice is breathy and strained. “You can fuck me, Liam. Want you to fuck me.”

Liam takes a deep, shaky breath, pushing himself in the rest of the way. Zayn squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a high-pitched moan, and though Liam can’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure, Zayn pushes his him backwards again, encouraging his motions as Liam thrusts out and back in to him. 

They moan in-sync this time, Liam’s low, gravelly moans harmonising with Zayn’s softer, more restrained ones. One of Zayn’s hands drops to grip his own cock, the other balling into a fist at his side as Liam starts to move on his own, motions becoming easier and less rough in time.

Liam squeezes his eyes shut as “oh fuck, Zayn” rolls from his lips, but allows them to only stay closed for a second before he forces them open again. He wants to look at Zayn, needs to see him. 

Zayn’s chest is starting to glisten with sweat now, his ab muscles clenching tight with each thrust, lip caught between his bottom teeth and eyes fluttering shut. 

“Are you okay?” Liam manages, voice laboured through panting breaths. “Is this okay?”

“M-more than okay.” Zayn gasps out. The hand previously balled by his side is now gripping hard onto Liam’s forearm, fingers digging into his skin. “Oh gods, Liam, fu—“

He cuts himself off with a loud moan, Liam dropping his head as his whole body clenches at the sound. He sounds so fucking good when he moans like that. Liam would give his life to never hear another sound. 

Liam drops his head enough to place a rough kiss to Zayn’s collarbones before pulling back, slamming himself deeper and harder into Zayn. All previous hesitation is lost from him; he wants nothing more than to get deeper, further into Zayn, to make him full with Liam’s throbbing cock. It’s so much but it’s not enough, Zayn’s moans getting louder and more frequent with Liam’s rough thrusts. 

“Fuck, Zayn, I—“

“Does it feel good?” Zayn asks him, squeezing harder on his forearm. Liam nods rapidly, mouth falling open as he continues to fuck into Zayn.

Zayn arches his back off the ground, tipping his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. Liam leans in, licking and sucking at the exposed skin of his neck, right under his jawline. 

“Shit, Zayn, I—“ Liam swallows hard, throat dry and breath panting. He slows his thrusts, pulling out of Zayn the smallest bit. “I’ve got— I can’t—“

“It’s okay” Zayn keeps one hand moving on his own cock but reaches around to grab Liam’s ass with the other, pulling him in as deep as he can go. Liam gives in, pushing himself in faster and harder again, matching his previous pace. He feels it building in his lower abdomen, that familiar feeling the somehow feels so different now. “Fuck, Liam— want you to.”

Liam clenches his hands into fists next to Zayn’s head as he feels himself reaching the edge. With one last hard push into Zayn, Liam quivers, mouth falling open, wrecked moan escaping him as he spills into Zayn.

Liam opens his eyes just in time to see Zayn, head leaned back and lip caught between his teeth, giving himself one last hard tug before he too comes, all over his fist and smooth stomach. It reaches all the way up to his chest, between his nipples, Zayn lazily running his left hand through it. His other hand is still on his own cock, eyes now locked on Liam as his chest heaves struggling breaths.

Liam looks down to watch himself pull out of Zayn. His cock drags on Zayn’s rim, raw and red, but Zayn doesn’t make a sound. Liam hovers over Zayn, careful not to brush against the sticky mess all over him.

He stares wordlessly at Zayn’s hole, traces of his come leaking and dripping from the rim. He’s paralysed by it, at least momentarily, and without knowing what’s come over him or what he’s doing, he ducks his head down, pressing his face in between Zayn’s still-spread legs, tongue flicking out to lap up his own come.

“Fuck!” Zayn cries, twitching underneath Liam. Liam reaches his arms up, hands gripping on Zayn’s trembling legs to steady him. “Liam— _fuck_.”

Liam sucks the last of it out of Zayn, the taste salty and strong on his tongue as he drags it over his lips and swallows.

When he pulls his head back, Zayn looks in a slightly dazed state, eyes fixed on the cave roof above them, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Was that…” Liam’s voice trails off, l “Was that okay?”

“That was—“ Zayn laughs, giddy and wrecked, pulling Liam down beside him. “Are you sure you’ve not done that before, Liam?”

“Definitely.” Liam replies, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s bare shoulder. “But I’d like to do it all again.”

They should get dressed, he thinks. Their foreheads and chests are slick with sweat, cheeks flushed and warm, but Liam knows that they’ll freeze or at the very least exhaust themselves if they lay in the cold much longer. 

Zayn tilts his head, shifting it on the ground to nuzzle into Liam’s neck, inhaling the sharp stench of sweat and body odour. Liam, rightly self-conscious, absent-mindedly moves his head away, distracting Zayn with a kiss.

“Not now.” Zayn tells him. Liam hums in response, lips brushing against the damp, messy hair on the top of Zayn’s head. “For now, let’s just… lay here.”

Liam takes a deep breath in, watching the way his chest rises under Zayn’s head, then releases it. Zayn’s fingers are rubbing through the sparse hair on Liam’s chest, tugging lightly every now and then and making Liam’s muscles tense. 

“I’m happy with laying here.” Liam replies, murmured into Zayn’s hair. He can see most of Zayn’s face from where he lays, the sharp tip of his nose and his high cheekbones, long and thick eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. “You’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

Zayn laughs softly, pressing his face further into Liam’s shoulder.

“I’ve not seen myself in a long time.” Liam can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise.” Liam mumbles, though the smallest hint of a playful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not good at keeping my word, apparently.”

Zayn lifts his head from Liam’s chest, just enough to look at him properly. It had been intended as a joke, a light-hearted retort, but it feels heavy in the air, making it harder for Liam to breathe. He blinks down at Zayn, both their smiles faded now into something much more melancholic. 

“You’ve always been honest with me.” Zayn says carefully, reaching up to card a hand through the damp hair sticking to Liam’s forehead. “That’s what matters.”

Liam wishes that were the case. He wishes that the Earth ended at the entrance to the cave, that there was no other life and nothing else sharing their world. He wishes that he could at the very least believe Zayn’s words, if not just for a day, just to not feel the weight on his chest and the nagging in the back of his mind.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Liam wakes the next morning with a smile on his face. 

He’s heard of people saying that, but he thought it was just a saying, just a cliche. But he genuinely awakes with an ear-to-ear grin, arms wrapped around himself and head tucked into his own chest. It’s the most wonderful feeling, he thinks, to wake up feeling truly happy, and one that he’d like to become accustomed to. 

Liam’s smile falters, however, when he waits for the feeling of breath on his neck and an arm around his middle, only to find that it isn’t there. _Zayn_ isn’t there. 

Despite still feeling weighed down with sleepiness and plagued with blurred vision, Liam wills himself to get up. A quick scan of the cave sees Niall and Louis in their usual position, pressed up next to each other in the nearest corner - but no Zayn. 

It takes Liam a long moment of staring blankly and confusedly around the cave with a groggy mind before he gets his wits about him, trudging outside into the freezing chill of the morning air. 

Liam’s smile returns as soon as he sees it - Dark hair tied back in two ponytails and a big mass of fur, sitting cross legged in the snow on the highest peak around for as far as Liam can see. 

He’s not too far from Liam, and it only takes Liam a minute to two of walking heavy-footed through the snow until he’s right next to Zayn.

“Good morning.” Liam says quietly, afraid to speak too loud, afraid to disturb the aura of peacefulness and calm that is clearly surrounding Zayn right now. Only the radiant smile Zayn gives Liam when he looks up is one of pure gratitude, and Liam’s whole body nearly freezes up when he remembers that Zayn is as happy to see Liam as Liam is to see Zayn. _They are on the same page_.  

Liam sits carefully next to Zayn, mimicking his cross-legged pose. They’re still just smiling, beaming at each other like idiots. It takes Zayn looking back in front of him to break Liam’s concentration, and it’s only then that he realises exactly what it is that Zayn’s looking at. 

They’ve been traveling through the mountains for days, maybe weeks now, the same monotonous snow and mountains and blue sky. But this… this is different. 

This is the most beautiful thing Liam has ever seen, he thinks, with the potential exception of the man sitting next to him. This is a pale blue and white gradient sky and sporadic soft pink clouds, the softest you’ve ever seen, glowing over a blue and white expanse of perfect, undisturbed snow and a deep blue river. Liam has never seen the world look so incredible. It couldn’t look more perfect if the most talented artist in the world had painted it. 

“Wow.” Liam half-whispers, half-gasps, because how could he not?

“It’s fitting, isn’t it?” Zayn says back, voice hushed. Liam glances at him just in time to see a playful smirk creep across Zayn’s face. “That what happened last night happened in a place this incredible?”

Liam has never agreed with someone more. 

“How long have you been up here?” Liam asks him.

“Couldn’t tell you.” Zayn replies, mischievous smirk fading into a content smile. “I just really like it. The peacefulness of it all. Always loved that sort of thing. I think I need it.”

Liam can’t help but laugh at this, a soft giggle that’s met with an offended poke in the ribs. 

“Hey! Why is that funny to you?” Zayn says, though he’s giggling too now. 

“It’s just… funny.” Liam waves his hand, struggling to eloquently explain his point without unintentionally offending Zayn. “Your people are far from peaceful.”

“Could say the same for you, y’know, and your vows.” Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him, and Liam’s insides churn a little bit. He was wondering who would be the first to mention it. “Or is it not really _breaking_ the vow if it’s a man you’re fucking rather than a woman?”

“I’ve always been a man of my word.” Liam says with a deep breath, turning his attention back to the view in front of them. “But, the Night’s Watch don’t care if I live or die. They... they don’t care what happens to me.”

Liam takes Zayn in his own, looking down at their interlocked fingers with a wistful smile.

“You do, though. I know you do.” Liam glances up to see Zayn smile gratefully at this, one which Liam matches with his own. “I think maybe the Night’s Watch isn’t where my loyalties lie. Not anymore.”

He looks back up to Zayn again, feels his gaze drop from his captivating dark eyes to his soft lips. Lips that Liam has kissed, has had all over him and felt on his skin, in places no one else has ever touched. 

“It’s you.” Liam manages, watching the way the corner of Zayn’s mouth twitches. “You’re more important to me. I want to be loyal to you.”

“You’re mine.” Zayn breathes, cupping Liam’s face with a furry-clothed hand. “And I’m yours.”

They stay like that for a moment, Zayn’s hand pressed to Liam’s face, eyes locked on each other in perhaps the most beautiful place in the world, until Liam can’t help it anymore, needs to kiss Zayn. It’s nothing suggestive, just a simple, chaste kiss on his lips. Because Liam _can_ , and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how wonderful that concept is. 

“It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” Liam says once they’ve separated, feeling his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Making love to your captor?”

Zayn immediately averts Liam’s gaze, glancing at his shoes and chewing on his lip in a way that more than suggests that he knows something Liam doesn’t. Which happens far more than Liam would care to admit.

“Yeah, about that.” Zayn starts.

“Zayn, it’s okay—“

“No, Liam.” Zayn looks back up at Liam now, holding his gaze meaningfully, and maybe Liam is being optimistic, but he sees a hint of a smile on his face. “It’s just that… me and Louis, we haven’t been… We’re not on the path.”

“What?”

“We’re not on the path.” Zayn repeats, sheepishly returning his gaze to their mountainous surroundings. “Haven’t been for a long while. We could’ve met up with more of the free folk, or signalled them, or been much closer to Mance right now.”

“But we aren’t.” Liam realises, simultaneously feeling stupid for not realising it sooner and trying to figure out what it all means for him and Niall. For him and Zayn. 

He should’ve seen this coming, if he’s honest - should’ve noticed that perhaps the reason their surroundings continue to look the same day after day is that they’ve been walking in circles, not lost, but with no real destination. 

“We aren’t.” Zayn echoes. He sighs, taking Liam’s hand in his own. Even through all the thick fabric, Liam feels the warmth. Zayn's dark eyebrows furrow together, his face a picture of concern and frustration. He still manages to look so damn beautiful. “We don’t know what we’re going to do. But, fuck, Liam, we aren’t going to hand you and Niall over to be killed. We just, we can’t. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Liam whispers, shushing him as he pulls Zayn closer, pressing their foreheads together. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as Zayn does the same in perfect synchronisation. “I am yours, and you are mine.” Liam reminds him. “That’s the most important thing.”

Eyes still closed, he feels Zayn’s lips on his own, insistent and vehement as Zayn puts his hands on Liam’s thighs, all his weight behind them. 

He’s not sure if he believes his own words. But right now, with Zayn kissing him and the rest of the world so far away it seems like another dimension, Liam doesn’t have it in him to care. He thinks this, them, is all he’ll ever care about for the rest of his life. 

And what a beautiful life it’s turning out to be. 

 

 

/ / / 

 

 

“Where are we going today, Louis?” Niall chirps. 

It’s something he’s started doing every day, Liam has noticed - every morning, before they leave their campsite, before the sun has properly risen, he asks it in the same chirpy, enthusiastic tone. And it’s always met with the same response from Louis - ‘shut up, Niall.’

But today seems different. Louis doesn’t answer straight away, and though at first Liam assumes it’s because Louis has succeeded in his efforts to effectively block out the sound of Niall’s voice, it becomes clearer as he looks from Niall to Louis, that maybe something has changed.

Zayn shifts against the snow between Liam’s legs, back of his head rubbing gently against Liam’s chest. Liam smiles, squeezing Zayn’s hand as it rests on Liam’s outstretched leg. Just because he can. 

“Maybe we don’t need to go anywhere.” Zayn replies, almost airily. Louis, sitting by himself a few feet to their left, doesn’t dispute the suggestion - which is another notable difference in itself, because Louis has been their self-appointed (and silently disputed) leader since their first morning together, and always decides on their plan of action for each day.

“Just stay here?” Niall asks incredulously, raising one eyebrow at Zayn.

“Just… stay here.” Liam can’t see Zayn’s face, but he knows he’s smiling. He can picture the gentle curve of his lips, the slight crinkle of his eyes, and it brings an equal smile to Liam’s own face.  

“Alright.” Niall shrugs, and Liam is not at all surprised that he doesn’t question it further. He knows that Niall is probably as happy as Liam and Zayn are to just stay in the cave, where admittedly, it may be damp and rather smelly, but more so than that, it’s comfortable and warm and safe. It’s theirs, or at least it has been for the last 12 or so hours, and Liam has grown rather fond of it. He grows fond of every place they sleep, each one correlated with a memory of laughing with Louis until he could hardly breathe, or Zayn kissing him awake, or falling asleep to the sound of Niall’s soft snores interspersed with Zayn’s breath on his ear and Louis’ sleep mumbling.

Niall leans over to Louis, arms outstretched and wrists facing upwards. Louis cocks an eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing from Niall’s wrists to his face.

When another long moment passes of Louis just looking at Niall incredulously, Niall thrusts his wrists a little closer to Louis, raising both his eyebrows at him expectantly. 

“Niall.” Louis starts, tone telling. “I told you this yesterday. We’re not doing that anymore.”

“Okay.” Niall says slowly, eyes shifting to Zayn and Liam.

“Look. Even Liam’s a free man now.” Louis juts his chin towards Liam, who in turn holds up his untied wrists with a comically exaggerated grin. “Bondage isn’t my thing anyway.”

“Do you want to leave, Niall?” Liam asks amusedly upon noticing the still-skeptical expression on Niall’s face.

It’s a rhetorical question, obviously. Niall hasn’t wanted to leave since… Well, since their first night together. Liam supposes that Niall always knew what it took Liam a while to accept. A great judge of character is one of Liam’s favourite traits about Niall, something that Liam himself has never been able to master, resulting in many poor decisions and trust being place with the wrong people. 

“Definitely not.” Niall answers, hastily tucking his hands under his arms. 

“So,” Zayn looks from Niall to Louis, then cranes his neck awkwardly to smile up at Liam. “we stay here then.”

“We stay here.” Liam echoes, feeling a smile stretch across his face. 

“We stay here!” Louis repeats, voice loud and shrill. “Not that anyone except Niall cares what I think, apparently.”

Zayn grabs a fistful of snow from the other side of Liam’s leg and throws it at Louis. It barely makes five inches before dropping back to the ground, Louis giving him a bored stare and clapping, slowly and mockingly. 

“Maybe we’ll all starve to death.” Niall ponders, tone inappropriately yet unsurprisingly chirpy.

“Nah,” Louis shakes his head, breaking his glare from Zayn to look at Niall as he speaks. “I don’t think we will.”

“Yeah. Besides,” Zayn squeezes his hand on Liam’s thigh. “If it comes down to it, you two will last me and Liam a good couple of days.”

“Really,” Louis’ voice is back to it’s previous shrillness. “I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. _Of course_ you would kill me before Snow.”

“Liam is stronger.” Zayn shrugs, shoulders rubbing against Liam’s middle as he does. “And your arse is meaty enough to feed us like Kings.”

“Right. Well, maybe this should be a silent cave today.” Louis raises his eyebrows at Zayn, a chorus of quiet giggles echoing around them and bouncing off the rocky walls. 

“Let’s see how long that idea lasts you, Louis.” Zayn bites his lip, holding back any further laughter. 

Zayn's playing with Liam’s hand now, lifting up each finger individually, running the pads of his own fingers over the top of the rough skin. Liam watches, eyes catching every movement until Zayn eventually settles for lacing their fingers together, his slightly smaller hands resting on top of Liam’s. 

Liam’s face flushes suddenly as a wave of realisation washes over him. Looking up, he sees Louis quickly glance at their intertwined hands, though the expression on his face is completely neutral and not at all telling. 

Despite their very apparent displays of affection, neither Louis nor Niall have commented on Liam and Zayn’s newfound physical relationship. It’s been more than obvious, from Liam’s point of view anyway - they’ve been holding hands, cuddling into each other, and Zayn even kissed Liam on the cheek earlier this morning when Niall was very much looking at them. He’s sure that they’ve noticed. But they haven’t questioned it, haven’t even breached the subject. It’s as if nothing has changed.

Liam is definitely grateful for that. He was initially hesitant to give any hints or clues to his closeness with Zayn out of fear of exactly that happening, because Louis or Niall asking what’s going on with them would mean having to explain it. And explaining it would mean labelling it, putting a name and a definition to what they are, what they have - and what they have is against so much of what Liam stands for - _used to_ stand for. 

Zayn makes him happy. He makes him smile so big it hurts his face, he makes his stomach feel like it’s constantly fluttering and doing backflips. He makes Liam feel better about who he is. So Liam doesn’t want that feeling to turn into a guilty one, doesn’t want to feel badly about the most good and pure thing he’s ever been apart of. 

Zayn untangles his fingers from Liam’s, softly running his fingertips from Liam’s knuckles up towards his wrist and forearm. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Zayn says, just loudly enough for Liam to hear. “Let it go.”

He lifts Liam’s hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss over his middle knuckles. It’s not until he feels his whole body relax that Liam realises he was tense, body rigid and stiff behind Zayn’s. 

“Not today.” Zayn continues, just as hushed as before. Liam places a gentle kiss on the top of his head, right above where his hair is pulled into a ponytail. “Today is a good day.”

Explaining what they are means facing reality. And Liam is more than content to avoid reality for a while longer.

 

 

/ / /

 

 

Louis lets out a loud shout, startling Liam. 

“This is more like it!” He tilts his head back, taking a deep breath of the crisp, frosty air surrounding them with his eyes shut and arms outstretched. “Fuck your ‘staying in the cave’ business, this, this is where I belong.”

“It’s fookin’ freezin’.” Liam mumbles in a half-hearted impersonation of Louis’ thick accent. “Hate this fookin’ wind.”

Zayn giggles into Liam’s shoulder, their arms bumping together, Zayn’s breath warm on Liam’s neck. Liam thinks that Louis could find a way to complain no matter where they go. Half the time he just does it for the sake of having something to say, when everyone else has is silent. 

“I’m tellin’ ya,” Louis shakes his head, followed by another deep breath. “I couldn’t handle another night in that cave. It stank like…” He physically cringes, dry-reaching at the memory with disgust written all over his face as Niall cracks up in hysterics beside him.

“It smelled like _us_.” Liam replies, lip snarling in disgust at the conveniently timed breeze blowing towards Liam from Niall. “We’re a little bit gross.”

“Filthy, filthy boys!” Louis exclaims, wicked smile directed towards Liam and Zayn. “That’s not sweat, that’s crusty—“

“Don’t even say it.” Zayn interjects, groaning into the palm of his hand. 

“Semen!” Louis cries, Niall cackling with glee. Liam doesn’t want to appease Louis or encourage his bad behaviour, but he can’t help but scoff out a laugh. And, well, he's not wrong. Liam's seen more come in the last few days then in his previous 21 years. He thinks he may even be approaching Niall's record now, if the stories he's heard are to be believed (though, knowing Niall, there's every chance that they're wildly exaggerated).

Not wanting to egg Louis on any further, the other three men fall silent following their initial laughter, the sound of snow crunching underfoot seeming much louder than it was before.

“Maybe Niall was right.” Liam ponders vaguely, not meaning for it to come out loud enough for someone else to hear him.

“Not likely.” Louis snorts. 

“Right about what?” Zayn asks, sticking his leg out to kick at Louis’ ankles for his remark. Louis nearly trips over, but regains his balance at the last minute, walking on with his head held high and pretending as if nothing had happened.

“Maybe we will die.”

He says it with a light tone and an unflinching expression, but the words resonate with him more than he’s giving off. He knows that there’s every chance they will. It’s a legitimate, realistic possibility more than it is a punch line or conversation starter. They could starve, or get eaten by wild animals, or killed by other free folk, and while this had all been true before, it seems even more likely now that they don’t have a plan or a destination. They’re vulnerable now. They’ve let their guard down, they’ve broken their own rules, and though between the four of them they’ve killed more men than Liam can even count, they’re weaker now than they were before. 

Zayn doesn’t seem to rest on the idea for long, lacing his fingers with Liam’s as best he can with their thick-gloved hands. He slows to a stop, pulling on Liam’s arm until he does the same, in the middle of a vast nothingness, snow dense under their feet.

“Maybe we will.” Zayn tells him, eyes darting from Liam’s lips to his eyes. “But what reason is that not to enjoy living first?”

Liam feels a smile stretching over his face, breath getting stuck in his throat and preventing him from saying anything other than “you’re incredible.”

And he means it, is the thing. He’s never met a human as impressive as Zayn. He’s starting to think that Zayn’s some sort of weird anomaly, because humans just aren’t _this_ good and lovely and kind. He’s kind yet assertive, reserved yet goofy, naive yet smart; he is everything, and Liam in no way feels himself worthy enough to call Zayn _his_ , but that’s what he is. He’s _Liam’s_.

Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand in his own, using his free hand to wrap around Zayn’s neck and pull him in for a long, sweet kiss. He sucks on Zayn’s bottom lip, fingers carefully carding the wispy hairs on the back of Zayn’s neck. 

Zayn takes Liam’s other hand in his after they’ve separated, holding them both in between them. He removes Liam’s left glove carefully, then his own right glove, stuffing them both inside his coat before looking up at Liam with a lovesick grin. Liam wants to kiss him again. Liam always wants to kiss him.

“Can’t hold your hand properly the other way.” Zayn tells him, looking down to watch as their fingers intertwine perfectly.

“Much better.” Liam smiles, squeezing on Zayn’s bare hand, still warm from the thickness of his gloves. 

Something catches Zayn’s attention, his eyebrows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he looks down at their hands.

“What’s that?”

Liam tilts his head to see around Zayn’s hair, peering at his own hand. Zayn brushes his thumb over a rough bit of skin, a thin line about an inch long that extends down from just below Liam’s first knuckle.

“Did you get that from one of your great battles?” Zayn smirks, lifting his head to look at Liam again.

“Yeah.” Liam smiles softly, looking back down at the little scar. He drops their hands between them, swinging slightly as they start walking again. Louis and Niall didn’t wait up for them, and are now a good 20 feet ahead. “One of the many great battles of Winterfell.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows at him curiously, waiting for Liam to continue. Liam looks at him for a moment, building the suspense, before returning his gaze to the ground beneath them. 

“My sister Gemma did it.” Liam admits, smirking. “We were squabbling at the dinner table one night and she cut me with her knife.” 

To this day, Gemma insists that it was an accident. Liam never believed her, of course, and the look of pure terror and shock Harry had on his face at the time was reason enough for Liam to believe that he didn’t either. But he’d forgiven her a few hours later, because that’s what big brothers do and whether they share the same parents or not, Gemma is his sister and he loves her - even when she’s brandishing sharp tools and weaponry. 

“You fight your family?” Zayn asks, brow wrinkled with confusion and concern.

“No. No, it was like—“ Liam nibbles on the inside of his bottom lip, giving Zayn a quick smile of reassurance. “It was a silly fight. Harry and I got more bread than her at dinner and she was mad.”

Zayn seems to consider this for a moment, tilting his head while he looks at the ground. 

“I would’ve stabbed you too.” Zayn tells him. 

Liam laughs, loud and proper, almost childish. He pulls Zayn in closer, bumping their elbows together through thick layers of fur. 

“But it’s not like that, not usually.” Liam comments. 

“What _is_ it like?” Zayn asks, tilting his head up to give Liam a mischievous smirk. “What do you fancy lords and ladies do to pass your free time?”

Liam takes a moment to smile back at him, a soft laugh escaping him when Zayn cocks an eyebrow. 

“Our father used to take me and Harry on hunts.” Liam starts, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat at mention of the word ‘father’. “Harry didn’t like it. Hated it, hated when father made him kill the animals.” He bites his lip, tone growing softer as he continues. “So I’d shoot a few with his arrows for him. No one ever knew it wasn’t Harry.”

He leaves a silence for Zayn to interject, to ask more questions, but he doesn’t. He hums in acknowledgement, bumping his arm against Liam’s again.

“Gemma didn’t come with us.”

“Why not?” Zayn interrupts suddenly, confused.

“Well, the girls weren’t allowed to hunt.” Liam explains slowly. “They learned other things, like how to sew.” 

“What if she wanted to hunt?”

“She didn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

Liam stops short, mouth gaping slightly as he narrows his eyes. He _doesn’t_ know, is the thing. Gemma never told them and they never asked.

He knows that Zayn had asked the question originally expecting an answer, but he seems to take note of Liam’s mood pretty quickly. He rubs his thumb over the back of Liam’s hands where it rests, calmly and gently bringing Liam back to the present. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, Liam supposes. Gemma and Harry’s life isn’t Liam’s life anymore - if it ever even was. 

“We read books.” Liam continues, clearing his throat. Zayn doesn’t interject this time. “About great kings. Bad kings. And battles, and wars.” He looks pointedly at Zayn, corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “And wildlings.”

“Wildlings!” Zayn echoes, face lighting up. “What did you read about them?”

“Nothing that could help me deal with you, that’s for sure.” Liam giggles, pulling Zayn closer to press a kiss to his temple. “No book ever mentioned anything about _fucking_ wildlings.”

“Oh, trust me.” Zayn’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “You can’t learn what we do from no books, Liam Snow.”

“Come here.” Liam giggles, but Zayn pulls away, letting go of Liam’s hand to skip ahead in front of him.

“Come?” Zayn smirks, licking his bottom lip. “You want me to _come_ , Liam?”

Liam falls into breathless giggles, and when Zayn breaks into a run, he follows him without hesitation. Zayn gains a lead quite quickly, slim legs moving faster than Liam’s, not slowing down until he reaches Niall and Louis. 

Liam takes a deep breath once his pace slows down, hands on his hips. He focusses on slowing his panting breath, the stars appearing in his vision a result of losing what aerobic fitness he had before leaving Castle Black. He’s never been big on running. 

With Zayn standing on the other side of Niall now, Liam is forced to focus on something other than Zayn’s profile or the way his loose strands of hair fall into his dark eyes when he moves his head. 

The sky is bright today, a beautiful pale yellow colour. Yellow is Liam’s favourite colour, if he had to pick one. The high mountains in the distance are tinted a pale purple in the light, looking more peaceful than ominous. There’s not much surrounding them but flat, clean snow, and while the sunshine does have a hint of warmth behind it, it's swiftly blocked by the morning frost. The wind nips at Liam’s face, like tiny icicles covering every inch of available skin. 

“We must’ve walked far.” Liam comments absent-mindedly. “This area is absolutely beautiful.”

“We’ve walked past this spot four times.” Louis responds without hesitation, tone slightly flat. “It’s not that far from where we met you two.”

“What?” Liam looks around him curiously, carefully examining as many minor details as he can. He swears it doesn’t look familiar. “How do you know?”

Louis points to a cluster of rocks about six feet to Niall’s right.

“I left that bunch of rocks there, in the shape of a cross, in case me and Zayn got separated.” Louis replies simply. 

Liam turns his lip up, looking from Zayn to Louis to the pile of rocks. Zayn raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, like he’s waiting for Liam to catch up - like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that they’ve been here before. They have been walking in circles, after all (at least, Louis says they have been. Liam hasn’t been able to pay attention to much other than Zayn since the moment they met). 

“Maybe the places are the same, but you’re seeing them differently.” Zayn suggests quietly, just loudly enough for Liam to hear. 

“Yeah.” Liam decides, smiling back at Zayn. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

 

 

/ / /

 

 

He wakes to the smell of smoke.

Startled and afraid, Liam sits up in a panic, sliding himself along the ground clumsily as he grips for something steady to help lift himself up to his feet. 

He hears Zayn’s soft chuckle, sleepy eyes blinking to focus as a pair of arms grip his armpits, pulling him up until Liam is fully vertical.

“Relax, love.” Zayn soothes in his ear. Liam can feel his body heat against his back, finds himself instinctively leaning into it. His ear brushes Zayn’s lips, Liam’s whole body shivering at the touch. “It’s just Niall practicing.”

Zayn brings his fingers up to Liam’s chin, moving it slightly to the right until Liam is facing Niall. He’s crouched next to a small pile of kindling and logs, hands cupped around a tiny ember and a great billow of smoke. He looks up at Liam suddenly, face lit up with a great big grin. 

“I’m doin’ it!” He beams at Liam. “Never started a fire myself. Never had to. And look at me now.” He pulls his hands back, extending his arms on either side of him and proclaiming rather proudly, “Fire!”

“It’s beautiful.” Liam bites back a giggle as Zayn hooks his chin on Liam’s shoulder. “Well done.”

“Always knew you were free.” Louis comments, drawing Liam’s attention as he sits on the ground on the other side of the fire, cross-legged and back perfectly straight. He wears a fond smile, one that crinkles his eyes and stretches across his face. “You were born to be free, Niall.”

“Calm down, Louis. We don’t need any awkward stiffies making things weird.” Zayn stifles a giggle, moving from behind Liam to stand next to him. 

Louis snorts, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes and tossing his head in Zayn’s direction.

“Says _you_!” He responds, voice loud and dramatic. “How many times since we picked up these two have you gotten a hard-on now? Tented your pants with that little prick of yours? It’d be in the high hundreds, surely.”

“They aren’t _awkward_ though.” Zayn smirks, amused. “Because it’s like… a mutual hard-on.”

“It’s awkward for _us_.” Louis shoots back, eyes widening. Niall looks up from his tiny flames to nod eagerly, nearly giving himself whiplash. “We don’t wanna be lyin’ barely three feet away while you’re comin’ in your lad’s arse.”

Liam feels his face burning hot, grateful for the fact that the attention is off him as Zayn takes a sure step towards Louis, still smirking.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Zayn replies, voice steady. When he gets close enough to Louis, he pats him on the head, hand getting lost amongst long, mussed up locks. “but he comes in _my_ arse, actually.”

Though Liam never thought he’d see the day that Louis admits rhetoric defeat, he goes awfully quiet after that, far more focused on Niall’s growing embers than he was before. 

Liam clears his throat, taking a few shuffled steps around the cave, but he still has an unshakable stiffness in his whole body. He’s on edge, a familiar, slightly nauseous feeling in his stomach that is trying to tell him something that Liam can’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps he had a bad dream again, another nightmare about Phantom leaving him shaken in the conscious world. Though he usually remembers his nightmares, and he doesn’t recall having any last night. 

He pushes the thought aside, focusing on Niall and his slightly pathetic looking fire. Liam bites back the urge to help, to give Niall tips and guide him along. Niall just looks so damn proud of himself, and Liam wants to let him have that a little while longer. It doesn’t matter that Niall is letting too much oxygen get to the flames, that if he were to sit himself slightly to the right of the fire then he would block the breeze and the flames would grow higher. It does matter, however, that Niall is doing something for himself for perhaps the first time ever. 

Liam tenses again when he hears a movement in the snow behind him that’s definitely not coming from any of the other boys. He glances up quickly at Louis, who is facing the exit of the cave, to gage his reaction. Louis is squinting, looking at something in the distance as if he’s trying to make out what it is. With peaked curiosity and a touch of fear, Liam turns until he too is looking at what Louis is. And any normal man would still be confused, would blink a few times at the black blur moving quickly through the snow, but Liam knows.

“Is that—“ Zayn comes up behind Liam, nose scrunching as he narrows his eyes. “Phantom?”

The direwolf bounds into the cave, pace slowing as he approaches Liam. He nuzzles against Liam’s side, Zayn crouching next to them, patting Phantom behind his ears. He’s still panting from his run, but he nudges Zayn’s arm appreciatively, apparently sensing the absence of a threat. Zayn giggles, and even Louis approaches, hand out-stretched to pet Phantom, but Liam remains frozen, whole body tensed as a sick feeling washes over him.

Terrified eyes dart over to Niall, who is looking back at him in a way that suggests that he knows, just as well as Liam, what is happening. 

Louis and Zayn don’t seem to have put the pieces together, blissfully unaware as they pat Phantom and chatter to each other about how big he is, even bigger since three weeks ago when they last saw him. 

It happens like a dream - like a nightmare - Liam frozen in a mix of shock and fear and unable to move as two or three fur-clad bodies appear as if from nowhere, wielding weapons and charging for Zayn and Louis. Liam wants to move, tries with all his fucking might to but can’t, opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out.

Zayn and Louis have both jumped back to their feet, reaching for their weapons as two rangers Liam recognises as Denner and Othor thrust at them with swords. It’s a blur of fur and metal and yelling, and Liam isn’t sure who has the upper hand or who’s fighting who. Phantom is howling and barking, barely visible amongst the chaos. Liam thinks he hears a snarling sound followed by a bite, but can’t be sure. 

“Stop!” Niall hollers, lunging for Denner, but Louis’ arm reaches him first, pushing him out of the way as he swings at Denner with his axe with the other arm.

Liam blinks slowly once, twice, hoping maybe it will all go away if he shuts his eyes hard enough. But each time he opens his eyes again, it’s still real. Zayn fights off Othor well enough, blocking each of his attacks with his sword while Louis struggles with Denner’s more experienced and aggressive style. The clanging of weapons hitting each other rings in Liam’s ears, sending shivers down his body from his head to his toes and the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t! Don’t kill them!” Niall yells, Liam’s words from his mouth, and when his calls go unanswered he grabs at Othor’s sword to make his point. “Leave them!”

Liam’s heart stills for a moment as Zayn looks up at him - he swears he does, is damn near positive he isn’t imagining it - eyes wide and desperate and pleading and Liam…

Liam remains stilled with fear, not moving an inch until Othor is grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him towards the cave exit. 

“Go!” Denner yells. 

“Your fucking mutt bit me!”

“Liam, we’ve—“

“Horan, Snow, come on!”

He trips over his own feet, not sure how they’re moving without his permission, independent of his brain - which is still struggling to catch up to everything. Othor is pushing him along, but Liam turns just enough to look over his shoulder, watching as Louis lies on the floor of the cave, Zayn crouched above him, hands pressed to Louis’ stomach, but eyes fixed on Liam. 

The look is fleeting, only lasting moments - but it lasts long enough for Liam to recognise the betrayal and shock in Zayn’s features. His lips are slightly parted and eyes blown wider than normal, each millisecond that he holds Liam’s gaze prickling over Liam’s skin and sinking in to his chest. He feels as though someone is clawing at him, pulling him into the ground. 

And then Liam is pulled away, forcibly breaking his gaze as Othor, Denner and Niall jog alongside him, Phantom already running ahead.

 


	2. P A R T  T W O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks he hears himself say something, thinks he hears his own voice just before it all goes dark, one word barely heard amongst the chaos.
> 
> “Zayn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brigitte im so sorry this took so long. i love you

_i don’t know if i will ever be complete,_

_but i know whatever i am,_

_you will always be the rest of me._

 

“Liam.” A hand nudges at Liam’s shoulder, prodding him gently. He hears a gentle sigh that he knows belongs to Phantom and feels a steady breathing on his hand where it’s hanging above the floor. “Liam, wake up.”

“I’m already awake.” Liam responds instantly, voice clear of any sign of drowsiness to further his point.

He’s been awake for a long time. What feels like weeks has probably only been hours, Liam laying completely still on his bed, chest rising and falling rhythmically as he stared at the ceiling above him, wordless and expressionless. He wants more than anything to be asleep right now - he wants to be asleep all the time, actually. But most nights he can’t get there. 

He has a much better time when he’s sleeping; like a reverse nightmare. Instead of feeling relieved when he wakes up, it’s so much the opposite that it pulls on his chest and makes his skin prickle. Instead of waking up from a nightmare, he wakes into one.

“Lord Commander wants us to train the new recruits today.” Niall’s voice is soft, and though he’s speaking an instruction Liam knows that it’s not intended as one.

Liam sighs deeply, a long, drawn-out breath in through his nostrils and out again. Phantom half-jumps onto the bed, front paws nudging against Liam’s left arm. Liam turns his head to look at him and finds himself staring into a concerned, upset expression. If wolves can even have expressions. Liam has always thought they can. 

In one, swift movement, Liam swings his legs over the side of his bed and onto the floor, starting to rub roughly at his eyes as though he really has been sleeping. 

“You look like shit.” Niall grimaces, extending a hand to grip Liam’s shoulder reassuringly. Liam half-glares up at him, wanting to put some conviction behind it but knowing that Niall is well-meaning. 

“Thanks” is all Liam manages to reply, pushing himself off the bed and into a standing position on the floor in between Niall and Phantom. 

“You really should sleep one of these days.” Niall tells him, as if the idea hasn’t already occurred to Liam himself. 

“Sleeping would be great.” Liam sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s grown long all over after weeks of going untrimmed, now starting to curl at the ends. Harry always loved when Liam’s hair went curly. He said it made them look more like brothers. “I want to sleep more than anything. But I can’t, because every time I close my eyes I—“

He can’t finish the sentence, can’t bring himself to say the words, his throat closing over and hands clenching into fists at his sides. 

_He sees Zayn’s face_. He sees the look of betrayal, the way his mouth had been gaping as if he couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe what was happening. After everything that had happened, everything Liam was— _is_ — Zayn has still expected better of him. And that hurts more than any physical wound Liam has ever had. 

Zayn is everywhere. Zayn is flowing through his bloodstream, beating throughout his body, running through his mind, behind his eyelids whenever he closes them. Zayn is everywhere except physically here with Liam, and Liam has only himself to blame for that. That’s what makes so much worse, he thinks. He knows this was entirely his fault, that he could’ve stopped it, that with one altered movement, one second longer to think, things would be different. They would be together. 

But they aren’t. 

Liam is a watcher on the Wall, the shield that guards the realms of men. And Zayn is his sworn enemy. 

They’re near completely silent on the walk down to the training yard, with the exception of Niall’s occasional mumblings to Phantom. Liam doesn’t make an effort to break the silence. He feels comfortable in it now, more than he does when people try to speak to him. 

Niall doesn’t suggest that Liam eat first as they pass the dining room, and Liam is thankful for it. It’s only the second day since Niall has stopped asking, since he gave up on insisting upon something that Liam would vehemently refuse every time. He’ll eat when he wants to eat, when he needs to. And right now he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want much of anything.

Liam keeps his head up as he walks, Niall slightly behind him, eyes fixed directly ahead. Bowen, first steward of the Watch, is walking through the passageway towards them, and though Liam can see him, he doesn’t look at him. 

“Traitor.” Bowen mumbles as he passes Liam - loud enough for Niall to hear, if the way Niall shouts “go fuck yourself, filthy cunt!” after him is anything to go by. 

Liam clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth as the silent echoes of the word washes over him in waves. Traitor. He is a traitor, to the Night’s Watch, to Louis and Zayn. To everyone. Bastard. Traitor. 

He stops suddenly, exhaling deeply and looking at Niall for the first time since they left Liam’s bedside. Niall nearly bumps into his back, too engaged with flipping Bowen off to notice the stop. 

“Why’ve I got to do this?” Liam asks quietly, tone harsh.

Niall sighs, lifting his hand to his mouth to bite his nails. He’s been doing it near-constantly since they got back to the Wall. Liam had never noticed him do it until now. 

“You’re one of the best rangers the Watch has ever seen.” Niall replies, calm and slow. 

“I’m a bastard.” Liam spits, swallowing around the lump in his throat. It doesn’t go away. Liam’s not sure it ever will. “A bastard who betrays people and makes stupid mistakes habitually.”

“That’s a big word.”

“ _Niall_.”

“Liam, I don’t know what to tell you.” Niall sighs, dropping his arm back to his side. It lands on the top of Phantom’s head, Niall’s fingers carding through the coarse fur instinctively. “You aren’t a bastard. Well, you are, really. But not in the way you mean it. Not in the way _they_ mean it.”

Liam drops Niall’s gaze suddenly, feeling a familiar ache behind his eyes as his jaw clenches, face getting hotter at a rapid pace. He waits a moment, staring at Niall’s boots as he steels himself, calming himself with three deep breaths. He's not going to cry. He won’t. Can’t. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” He mumbles as he starts walking again, marching towards the exit.

The training yard is busy with recruits and rangers today, the grey sky hanging over them in an appropriate gloominess. Matthar stands in the middle of the yard, leaning on the handle of his sword, which is sticking into the muddy ground beneath him. Half a dozen recruits stand before him, most of them looking entirely disinterested. They don’t notice Liam approaching, either too busy chattering amongst themselves or just looking at Matthar, waiting for instruction.

“Today, men,” Matthar starts, gaze flicking towards Liam, who approaches him from the side. “Today you’ll learn how to fight from a cowardly bastard of the North.”

Liam feels his whole stomach flip over at the sound of Matthar spitting out the words, hands clenching into fists at his side. But he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say anything, just remains still, eyes unblinkingly fixed on Matthar. The recruits laugh, cruelly and openly, but Liam doesn’t care. 

One of these days, the wildlings are going to attack the Wall, and all these men are going to die - every last one of them. And Liam can’t find it in himself to care much about that. 

“You.” Matthar smirks, nodding to the largest of the bunch. He mirrors Mathar’s expression as he steps forward, training sword in hand. “You got a name?”

The man opens his mouth to speak, but Matthar waves him off.

“Doesn’t matter. Have at it.” He leans heavier on his sword now, looking bitter and amused and fucking nasty all at once. “Let’s see if Des Stark’s bastard bleeds like the rest of us.”

The recruit sizes Liam up at first, walking him around in a circle as his eyes bore into him. Liam doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break his gaze, just lowers himself the littlest bit, readying himself for a fight. The recruit swings at Liam, wildly and with a great shout, and it takes no more than one stern shot to the middle with Liam’s own training sword to put him down. Liam advances on him again, but the sound of gravel crunching behind him alerts him to the presence of another, slightly smaller recruit. 

As soon as Liam spots him, he thrusts his sword at Liam, which Liam is able to block easily. He swings his sword harder than is necessary, noticing and relishing the way the recruit’s arm bows. He swings again, however, this time with more frustration, though Liam is able to block it again, and once more, before grabbing the recruit by his filthy, matted hair and throwing him onto the ground. 

Two more advance on him now, swords poised and ready to fight Liam like they have a point to prove, and maybe they do. But Liam doesn’t give a fuck.

He blocks both of their thrusts, first one and then the other, and puts them on the ground easily, kicking the slightly larger of the two square in the chest and punching the other in the face with every ounce of force he can manage. Liam walks over to the first recruit with purpose now, as he starts to stir and sit up, and he raises his sword, poised and ready, glaring at Matthar as he does.

The first recruit scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can, though as he’s caught off guard he’s not able to do much more than defend himself as Liam swings at him, hacking, gripping his training sword with both hands as he brings it down heavily again, and again, and again. The recruit is backing away now, desperately reaching behind him with his free hand for something to hold on to and balance himself on. Liam swings once, twice more, breath heaving and shoulders tense before letting his sword drop to the ground, his body slouching with it.

“Alright!" Niall calls suddenly, jogging over to Liam’s side. He wraps one arm around Liam’s shoulder, the other coming down to block Liam from raising his sword arm again. Liam is panting, huffing deep breaths that steam the air in front of him as his eyes remain fixed on the ground. Niall feels warm against his side. “Think that’s enough for today. You guys get the idea.”

Liam doesn’t see or hear the recruits dissipate, but when he looks up a minute or so later, they’re all gone. There’s hardly anyone left in the training yard except Niall and Liam, still frozen in the same position, the only movement being Liam’s heaving chest. He has no idea how long he’s been standing there for. 

“You didn’t—“

“Yes, I did.” Niall interrupts. He pats Liam on the back once before removing his arms, taking a step backwards and giving Liam a once over. Liam’s bottom lashes are wet, can feel it now, but he doesn’t wipe it away. He doesn’t want Niall to notice. “Liam…”

“I’m—“ Liam cuts himself off this time, the word hanging in the air. _Fine_. It sticks in his throat, sitting alongside the lump, but it doesn’t come out. He cares about Niall too much to lie to him. 

He’s not sure what _fine_ is - but it’s not this. None of this is _fine_ , none of it is okay, and Liam isn’t sure how much longer he can go on with it all.

 

/ / /

 

He’s afraid to close his eyes. 

Closing his eyes means he sees Zayn, and seeing Zayn means remembering what happened - as if he could ever forget. But he can’t sleep unless he closes his eyes. And being asleep is what he needs right now.

Liam rolls over onto his back, staring up at the darkness above him as if he can actually see something in it. 

It’s like invisible agony. That’s the best, and perhaps only way, Liam can accurately describe how he’s feeling - short of just screaming and shouting and punching something. Or someone. He wouldn’t mind punching someone. 

He hates being around people, but he doesn’t want to be alone either. Being with people means talking, socialising, pretending that he doesn’t hate them all, hate himself, hate everything.

Being alone might be even worse. Being alone means Liam is left with nothing but thoughts of Zayn and Liam’s own self-loathing.

He’s a bastard - always will be.

“You awake?”

Liam doesn’t respond. He contemplates ignoring Niall, considers that maybe pretending he’s asleep and remaining silent as Niall drifts off again is going to be the easiest path to take. He just doesn’t have the energy to speak, to open his mouth and force words out.

“I know you are.” Niall continues, sighing. 

Liam leaves the silence hanging in the air for a moment longer, his deep breaths out of sync with Niall’s more shallow ones in the bed across the room from him.

“Yes.” Liam replies softly. HIs voice is rough, not from sleep, but from not being used since that morning. “I’m awake.”

Liam can’t see Niall. He can hardly see anything beyond his hands laying on his chest, rising and falling in time with his breathing. He hears Niall shift in his bed, and Liam imagines him rolling over, from his side facing Liam to his back, stretched out and staring up at the roof exactly as Liam is.

Niall’s been awake as long as Liam has. Though Liam can’t see him, it’s hard not to notice the absence in horn-level snoring and sleep-mumbling. Niall has been completely silent all night, the only sound coming from his side of the room being the shifting of blankets and occasional deep sighs. 

It’s like the air in the room is heavy, laying on both of them and pressing on their chests and restricting their breathing and making any sort of peaceful sleep impossible. 

“We could leave.” Niall suggests. Though it comes from a long silence, it isn’t sudden; it seems like a continuation from a conversation they weren’t even having. 

“We can’t.” Liam snaps. He feels instantly guilty for it, but his face is getting hot and his palms are sweating against the blanket clutched in his fist and his head is starting to ache. “If we abandon the Watch, we die. We can’t— We never should’ve left in the first place.”

Niall falls silent again, and Liam hears him exhale in perfect synchronisation with Phantom, who’s laying on the floor between them. He sounds just as exasperated as Niall and Liam and— maybe he is. Liam rolls his head over so that, if the room was lighter, he’d be looking at Phantom. 

_Maybe he misses Zayn too_.

Phantom lets out another deep breath, followed by a low grumble, and there’s a pain in Liam’s chest now that wasn’t there before.

“Regardless of what… happened,” Liam swallows thickly around the ever-present lump in his throat. He hates that he’s still not able to say the words, though it feels apt given his complete and utter cowardice. “I’m a man of the Night’s Watch. And so are you. And I don’t want to be the bastard everyone thinks I am. I can’t.”

“Liam…” Niall stops himself from continuing, awaiting the interruption he knows is coming.

“I know what it feels like now to let people down,” Liam says, each word heavy on his tongue as it comes out of his mouth, “and I don’t ever want to feel that again.”

There’s complete silence now, not even the shifting of sheets or the gentle breathing of Liam’s direwolf to break it. There’s just nothing, for a long moment. 

“Are we talking about the Watch, or Zayn?” Niall finally speaks, and Liam fucking wishes he hadn’t. 

“Niall. Don’t.”

“No, Liam, come on.” Niall’s voice is growing louder now, and he’s ignoring Liam shushing him. “Louis and Zayn were better family to me than our supposed brothers here at the Wall ever have been. I’m not going to pretend that's not true just to spare your feelings.”

Liam considers it, lets Niall’s words echo in his head for a moment before he shakes his head. They can’t do this. They can’t entertain foolish fantasies and relive broken memories as if they have a say in what their future holds. They’ve both made their choice, they’ve said their vow, and bastard or not, Liam’s not breaking. 

“Niall, we have to stay.” Liam hisses. “We just— have to. We don’t have a choice.”

He waits for some contention, some sort of argument from Niall, but it doesn’t come, so he continues, “We never had a choice.”

Niall still doesn’t reply. It’s unnerving, is the thing, and though Liam is hurt and upset and pissed, he still feels the guilt. 

“Whatever you say, Lord Snow.”

_I’m not a Lord_ , he mentally replies. _I was never a Lord._ But he doesn’t say the words out loud. It will just act as a continuation on an argument he doesn’t want to have, and on top of everything else right now, the last thing Liam wants is to have Niall be upset with him.

So he lets it go. He feels the tension heavier than ever now, and it keeps him quiet, keeps him from talking to Niall any longer.

He knows this is Niall’s deal too. He forgets it sometimes, gets so caught up in the selfish pain of it all that he forgets that Niall was there. Niall grew close with Louis and Zayn, Niall lived with them, Niall was happy. 

Niall wanted to stay. 

So whatever pain Liam is feeling, Niall has it too. It may hit him in a different way, it may not reflect in his actions and words as easily as it does with Liam, but it doesn’t change the fact that Niall is hurting. And he could’ve left. If Niall really wants to abandon the Watch, which Liam is sure he does, he could’ve done it by now. But he hasn’t. He’s stuck around, and even Liam isn’t naive enough to think it’s for any reason other than him.

“I’m sorry, Niall.” Liam whispers into the cold air, words nearly getting lost.

Niall doesn’t reply.

He hears Phantom moving around, the padding of soft footsteps, the sound of a small leap, and Phantom resting himself down on Niall’s bed. 

And so Liam lays alone, cold and exhausted but unable to sleep. 

  

/ / /

 

He always loved Zayn’s hair. It looks beautiful right now, the way it’s sitting out of Zayn’s usual ponytails, flowing just below his shoulders. He has the softest hair, impossibly soft, and so dark it nearly surpasses black.

He can’t see Zayn’s face. He can see his hair, his head, his shoulders, his back—

His own hands. Liam can see his sword when he looks down, held firmly in the grasp of his right hand. He pulls it from his belt, drawing it and holding it steady in front of him with both hands as he steps, closer and closer to Zayn. His hands don't tremble at all.

Zayn doesn’t flinch when the blade goes in. His body doesn’t move at all, almost as though he was expecting it, but the blood pools from the entry wound like a flowing river. It falls down his back, coating Liam’s hands where they remain gripped to his sword, Zayn’s blood, red and dark, and Zayn still doesn’t move, but he can hear him speaking.

“Liam!” Zayn calls, voice sounding distant and desperate. “Liam!”

He repeats it a few more times, but Liam can’t stop staring at his hands, covered in blood. Zayn’s blood. There’s so much of it, impossible amounts, pouring out of him freely. 

“Liam!”

Niall is shaking Liam’s shoulder, so aggressively that Liam nearly tips out of his chair. Liam lifts his head suddenly, whole body twitching as his head whips around him. He can’t see Zayn; just book-covered shelves, light shining weakly through tiny windows, Niall standing to his left. 

His hands are violently shaking, he notices as he looks down at them. But they’re clean. He turns them over once, twice, searching for any sign of blood. There’s nothing. Just his hands, quivering and pale. His whole body is quivering, and sweating. He feels like he might throw up. 

“Sorry.” Niall pats the side of Liam’s face, looking at him with pity. Liam hates that look. He’s been seeing far too much of it from Niall lately. “I didn’t want to wake you, but you kept saying ‘no’ over and over again. You sounded really upset.”

Liam nods vaguely, mind still foggy from the sleep. 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Liam shakes his head instantly, vehemently. A lie. 

“Don’t remember.” He lies again, running a hand through his hair. It feels damp with sweat, and dirty. He needs to clean himself. He clears his throat, hand running down his face now as he straightens himself up in his chair. Niall has turned his attention back to the book in front of them, large and ancient looking with the tiniest writing Liam has ever seen. He’s not sure how Niall is even reading it.

“Found what we’re looking for?” Liam asks, voice rough with sleep. He clears his throat again.

“No, Liam, I haven’t.” Niall sighs, frustrated. He shuts the book suddenly, the loud slam echoing throughout Castle Black’s library. “I’m not sure it even exists.”

“They say this will help the Grand Maester?”

“That’s what they say.” Niall says, pointedly exaggerating his words. He drops a fist to the table suddenly, looking around them at the large array of thick and impressive looking books. Liam’s been down here approximately once in his whole time at Castle Black, and that was when he was looking for Phantom during one of their first days as part of the Watch. It’s entirely unfamiliar to him, though he thinks that even if he’d been down here a hundred times it would still feel that way. “Is it just me, or does this feel like a punishment?”

Liam pushes back from the table, standing on wobbly legs as he stretches out his back, arms pushed back behind him.

“It’s not just you.” He mumbles. He doesn’t speak on it any further, though the anger and frustration for the whole situation is burning inside him. He doesn’t have the energy in him to speak, and that has nothing to do with how much he’s slept.

“And I thought they hated us before!” Niall shakes his head, dropping down into Liam’s now-vacated seat. “Not exactly a hero’s return. You know Lord Commander called me Neil yesterday?”

Liam doesn’t respond, but he does raise his eyebrows at Niall, which is more expression than he’s shown in the weeks since their return. 

“Neil. Not Niall, not even Horan. Neil.” Niall shakes his head again, chewing on his bottom lip. “Lived here over a year, the guy hasn’t had a problem with getting me name right all this time. Only since we’ve been back.”

“Everyone’s been different since we’ve been back.” Liam replies simply. He doesn’t mention the fact that Othell pissed all over Liam’s clothes while he was sleeping, or that Alliser has been rallying a cry of “filty traitor” every time Liam is in the same room as him, or that Grenn and Hugh - perhaps the only members of the Night’s Watch other than Niall whom Liam has ever been able to consider friends - won’t even look him in the eye anymore. He doesn’t mention any of that, because that’s not what Niall needs to hear right now, and it’s not what Liam needs to hear either. 

“I don’t regret it, you know.” Niall tells him. He bites his lip thoughtfully, looking down at his own hands. “Don’t regret staying. Don’t regret grabbing Othor’s sword. Don’t regret none of it. They can cry about it all they want.”

Liam doesn’t know how to answer that. He regrets it, regrets so much of what happened that he doesn’t know where to begin. He regrets making Zayn his, regrets laying with him and talking to him and knowing him in a way he hardly knows himself - and he regrets leaving Zayn. He regrets in a way that is all-consuming and contradictory and it keeps him up at night, keeps him from feeling anything other than ambivalence and discontent.

He doesn’t know what he would do if he could go back and do it again. He doesn't know what the right thing to do would have been, but he knows what he did wasn’t it.

Whether the rest of the Watch merely assumed what had gone on, or whether they put two and two together from the fact that Liam and Niall were quite clearly not trying to leave their supposed captivity, they have closed the book on Niall and Liam. They have made up their minds, and Liam knows that they will continue to treat them this way every day until their deaths.

“I don’t think they’ll ever trust us again.” Liam says out loud. 

Niall nods for a moment, holding Liam’s gaze before looking back at the closed book in front of him. 

“I don’t think they ever did to begin with.”

 

/ / /

  

It’s the middle of the day, sky grey as it hangs above them as if unchanged from the days past. Every day looks the same, and every day Liam feels the same. It’s all a bit poetic - tragically so, of course. 

The Night’s Watch are carrying out their day as normal, completely disregarding Liam’s existence save some hard smacks to the back of his head and some spitting on his shoes as they walk past him. He was asking for it, he supposes, sitting out in the yard like this. He’s barely ventured outside his room for the purpose of moping since they got back, but today Niall insisted he try a different setting. It’s not working out too well. 

Though Liam knows that Niall only did it so that he could keep an eye on him, from where he’s training their newest recruit. Except that Niall hates training, and he’s entirely focused on Liam, so it’s more an unfairly aggressive onslaught of strikes and blows while the youngster fails to defend himself than it is a training session. 

“Liam!” Niall hollers from across the yard. The recruit turns his head to look at Liam too, sneering at him upon sight. He’s been here all of seven days and he already has disdain for Liam. “Sure you don’t wanna come help? Olly could learn a lot from you, we all could.”

“Learn a lot about how to use your _sword_ on wildlings” comes a response from the other side of the yard, before Liam has a chance to tell Niall that it was a bad idea to draw attention to him. 

“Shut up, you right pack of cunts!” Niall yells to the sniggering mass of Watchers. It’s white noise to Liam at this point, the laughter and the jeers and the jokes. It has to be, if he’s going to be hearing it for the rest of his life.

For the remainder of Niall’s training, Liam doesn’t lift his head. He ignores the presence of people walking past him, the yell of other Watchers from across the yard, even the bellowed instructions of the Lord Commander. He just sits, watching his hands, his boots, the muddy gravel beneath him. His arm or his leg occasionally twitches, but other than that, he remains still. 

His mind mostly zones out after a while, the only thing to break his reverie being the sudden slap on Niall’s hand on his shoulder.

Liam looks up, squinting at the bright glare of the sky behind Niall. 

“You’re a right miserable git, you know that?” Niall smiles, or at least tries to, hand briefly ghosting across Liam’s cold cheek. “Wouldn’t kill ya to smile.”

“I know, if it did, I’d be grinning from ear to ear.” Liam deadpans, and it’s only after a long moment of Niall looking like he’s about to either cry or burst into flames that Liam adds, “I’m kidding.”

He’s not. But Niall doesn’t need to know that. 

“So. Have you come to force me to eat?” Liam asks, trying to mask his discontent. He knows he’s failing miserably. He doesn’t mind. “Participate in some sort of healing arts and crafts?”

“Lord Commander just gave me this.” Niall says, biting his lip apprehensively. Liam’s gaze drops to the parchment in Niall’s hand, though from the way it’s clutched tightly in his grasp, still by his side, it doesn’t look Niall wants to hand it over. Something turns upside down in Liam’s stomach. 

“For me?” Liam asks.

Niall nods.

“From Winterfell?”

Niall nods again. 

“Have you read it?”

“No.” Niall says quickly, shaking his head aggressively. Surely his neck is going to snap soon.“But. I mean. When is it ever good news?”

Liam barks out a cynical laugh, startling a clearly-on edge Niall. He’s still holding the parchment tightly, so Liam stands up, reaching out and physically prying his hands off the thing. 

It’s not from Harry, is the first thing Liam notices.

Niall was right, is the second thing. It isn’t good news.

Liam reads silently, hands shaking on either side of the parchment and blurring the words. 

“ _While travelling to Winterfell from King’s Landing, Lord Harry Stark was separated from his men, and has yet to be found. Stark bannermen saw wildlings watching them not a few minutes before Harry disappeared. We suspect they have taken him._

_We will not rest until Lord Stark is home safe._ ” 

Liam reads it another three times, just to be sure that what he’s reading is right. It can’t be right. He reads it start to end, eyes blurry and out of focus, his mind repeating the words ‘yet to be found’ again and again. Separated. Yet to be found. _Wildlings_. 

“Fuck.” Niall’s voice comes, closer to Liam’s side than he was before. He snatches the parchment from Liam’s hand, turning it over and holding it upside down as if he’s expecting it reveal some sort of hidden message. Liam’s gaze remains fixed, staring at a spot on the muddy ground.

“Liam.” Niall says suddenly, waving a hand in front of Liam’s face to get his attention. Liam feels like his neck can’t support his head, like his knees are going to buckle. He feels sick. “You know what this is.”

“I know.” Liam says.

“This was Zayn and Louis.” Niall tells him anyway. “This was a message for you.”

“I know.” Liam repeats, swallowing hard.

“They think you set them up, when the Rangers came to get us.” Niall raises his eyebrows, like he doesn’t think Liam understands what’s happening. Liam understands completely - that’s the problem. 

He feels an unusual kind of sickness in his gut when the idea washes over him that Zayn thinks Liam is capable of a betrayal like that. He may have been a coward, may have left Zayn abruptly and painfully but he didn’t want to hurt him, could never want to hurt him, and shit, Liam’s stomach is churning with bile. He’s going to throw up.

“Harry-“ Liam chokes out. His brother is missing. He may be with Louis and Zayn, and Liam doubts they would hurt him, regardless of how angry they are with Liam, but they’re only two of the thousands of wildlings. He’s still in danger. He needs to find Harry. 

He needs to find Louis and Zayn. 

“The Notherners are going to be looking for him.” Liam realises, feeling even more sick with dread as each word comes out. “Lots of them. Harry’s the Lord of Winterfell, he’s— Louis and Zayn are good, but they’re—“

“They’re going to get destroyed.” Niall finishes for him, breathing out a deep, shaky breath. “Not even they can fight off that many trained men.”

“And if there’s more, if they bring in more wildlings, that’s-“ Liam swallows hard, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. “That’s even worse. That’s a full-blown war, waiting to happen.”

“How do the Northerners fare in battle?” Niall asks weakly. 

“Does it matter?” Liam feels like he’s choking. “Regardless of defensive stategies or how many men we— _they_ have, the wildlings are unstoppable. There’s no way that Harry, Zayn and Louis all make it out of this alive. There just isn’t.”

“Well.” Niall starts, clapping a hand down on Liam’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles feebly, in a way that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “There is one way.”

“Are you—“

“Yes.” Niall cuts in. “As always, Liam Snow, I think we’re going to have to take matters into our own hands.”

 

/ / /

  

It’s dark. It’s really, really dark, so dark that Liam can’t see much beyond the reach of his hands, and that makes it all that much more intimidating. 

“Are we really doing this?” Niall whispers, reaching out to squeeze Liam’s arm. It’s comforting — at least, it’s intended to be. Liam is still really nervous. 

“Yeah.” Liam replies, voice shaky and barely able to be heard over the whir of the wind around them. They’re standing on the rickety walkways on the exterior of Castle Black, steaming the air with their breath as they contemplate the weight of what it is they’re about to do. Even Phantom seems nervous, not moving from his place at Liam’s side. 

Liam takes a deep breath and begins to walk, tapping on Niall’s hand as a hint for him to follow. They step lightly, slowly, trying ardently to not make a sound, to not alert anyone to their movement. 

They’re meant to be on watch tonight. If something happens to the Wall, to the Night’s Watch, it’ll be their fault. 

Liam tries not to think about that.

They don’t speak again until they’re at the gates, Liam standing between Phantom and Niall, who are both close enough to Liam that he can hear them breathing. Liam swallows hard, trying to breathe around the lump in his throat as he stares at the gates, hands trembling relentlessly at his side. Niall wraps his hand around Liam’s, giving him another reassuring squeeze.

“We can’t go back after this.” Niall whispers. “You know that. This is a permanent decision. No taking it back later.”

Liam nods, even though Niall can’t see him.

“I know.”

Niall wants to do this. Though it had been Liam’s decision, he knows that Niall was completely sure in his agreement. He understands why Niall would be concerned, why he would want to be sure that Liam was aware of the consequences of what they’re about to do, but this is bigger than Liam now. This is Harry, his only brother. Liam needs to do this. Liam wants to do this.

“We’ll cross that bridge when— _if_ , we get to it.” Liam adds quietly. Niall squeezes his hand once more before letting go.

They might die. Liam knows that. He’s okay with it, thinks it would be worth it, just so long as Harry doesn’t die with them. 

“Let’s go.” Liam says, voice steady.

 

/ / /

 

It’s at least two hours before either of them speaks. They’ve just been walking, completely wordless, almost as though they’re still scared of being heard and caught. The Wall and Castle Black and well behind them now, miles and miles away. Liam knows there’s no one around for as far as the eye can see. He still doesn’t say a word. 

Everything looks more or less the same as it did the last time they did this; an endless, snow-covered landscape that seems to stretch on for eternity. It’s colder than it was last time, winter more present than it has been for years, though Liam doesn’t mind. He’s noticed Niall trembling a few times, but he can’t be sure if it’s the cold or the nerves that are causing it.

“Are you okay?” Niall says quietly, suddenly, and Liam’s gotten so used to the silence that he has to stare at Niall for a few moments before he can be sure that Niall actually spoke. 

“Yeah.” Liam says. He thinks it might be a lie. He’s not even sure. It sounds like a lie. 

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” Niall says, shaking his head. He’s been walking a few steps ahead of Liam for a while, but he falls back into line with Liam now.

“For Harry.” is Liam’s only response, and Niall nods in agreement. 

Niall’s never met Harry, is the thing. It’s the driving force behind Liam’s anxiety right now, and something he’s been considering since about 10 minutes after they left Castle Black. Niall has never met Harry, has never spoken to him, hasn’t so much as seen him in the flesh. He knows nothing about Harry aside from what Liam’s told him, and though what Liam has said is all positive and wonderful, it doesn’t change the fact that Harry doesn’t mean anything to Niall. He’s just the half-brother of Niall’s best friend. And yet, Niall has thrown his entire life away, has risked getting killed in an incredibly violent way, for Harry. For Liam. 

Liam thinks he could tell Niall how grateful he is for the rest of his days and it wouldn’t be enough. 

He just really hopes that this all works out - for Niall and for Harry more than anything.

“It’s gonna be weird.” Niall muses, bending down to retrieve the stick that Phantom has been playing with for the last few miles at least. Liam nods mutely, feeling his throat dry up at the thought of it. He knows without clarification that he’s talking about the fact that they’ll be seeing Louis and Zayn again. “I’ve missed Louis, though."

Liam chuckles quietly at this. Of course Niall has missed Louis. Liam’s sure he’s missed Zayn as well, but being the incredible friend Niall is, he avoids mentioning Zayn whenever possible. 

“Me too.” Liam admits, though he’s not smiling anymore. “Never thought I’d say that.”

“What’re you planning to do?” Niall asks, chewing his lip nervously as he looks up at Liam. “When you see him again?”

He could be talking about Harry. Or Louis, even. But Liam knows he isn’t. 

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it. He’s considered it a thousand times since they came up with this plan, imagined it a thousand which ways. He’s thought about what he might do, what he might say, if he even gets a chance to say anything. But it’s all futile. He doesn’t know how this is going to go, and though the optimistic part of Liam wants to believe that Zayn will tell him that he’s missed him and that everything will be okay, a much bigger, much more realistic part of Liam is sure that this is only going to end in disaster.

“I have no idea.” Liam replies honestly. He looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows meekly. “Any advice?”

“While I am known for my wisdom,” Niall starts, earning a genuine laugh from Liam (a true achievement these days) “I don’t know what to tell you, mate. I’ve never been in love.”

He could tell Niall that he doesn’t love Zayn, that that’s not what they had or what he feels. But he doesn’t. He lets the words hang in the air, creating a tangible atmosphere of apprehension, and continues walking, one step at a time, through the thick snow. 

Acknowledging it, in confirmation or denial or otherwise, won’t make seeing Zayn again any easier. Liam’s not sure anything can. 

 

/ / /

 

Though they’ve walked the same path and survived in the same climate before, Liam feels much worse off this time. He’s hungry, that’s the main thing, and he’s tired from walking and walking and walking and he’s pretty sure he’s doing his insides permanent damage from all the fucking _worrying_ he’s doing. It’s not medically safe to be this anxious all the time.

It’s not just Zayn. While Zayn is always at the forefront of his mind, the prospect of facing him again and breathing in the same vicinity as him and maybe even talking to him so terrifying to Liam that it makes him want to crumble apart, there are other things plaguing Liam with true, unrelenting fear.

Harry might not even be alive. Liam knows that; the Wildlings are savages, completely unrelenting and unforgiving and Liam knows that there’s a very good chance that Harry is already dead and that if they find him, it might just be his rotting corpse. Liam hopes, prays every hour to the old Gods and the new that that isn’t the case, but he’s not sure it’s enough. He doesn’t feel as though he’s done enough good in his life to earn favours from the Gods. 

And then there’s Niall. Though it’s true that Niall is a fully grown man, and one trained in combat at that, totally capable of looking after himself, Niall is Liam’s responsibility at this point. If something happens to Niall, it’s his fault. Niall wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for Liam. 

So. Yeah. Liam’s a little stressed.

Niall’s attempts at conversation are not helping.

“But I suppose, if it were to be a swift jab in the chest, that would be quicker. But they’d have to have a good aim, aye.” He stops talking for a moment, and Liam is thankful for it too soon. “If they miss just a bit to the left or the right, you’re bleeding out and that’s, well, it’s not ideal.”

“Niall.” 

“I always wondered how a slit throat would go.” Niall continues, oblivious to Liam’s interruption. “Would you taste it, d’you think? Would you die straight away or would it be slow? It always looks to be instant, but, I think it's more shock than anything.”

“Niall.” Liam cuts in, more insistent this time. 

Niall turns in the snow, looking bewildered. “Yes, Liam?”

“Please stop.”

Niall blinks at him for a moment, then a wide grin spreads across his pale face.

“Sorry, Snow!” He says far too cheerfully. He stays still as Liam begins to walk again, allowing Liam to close the gap between them until they are again walking in time with each other. “It’s bloody fucking boring out here, and you ran out of things to say about eight seconds after we left."

“I know, I’m sorry.” Liam sighs, managing an apologetic smile. "But can we please maybe forgo any conversation about dying and death?”

“Absolutely." Niall tells him. “What would you like to talk about?”

Liam doesn’t really want to talk at all, to be honest. He just wants to find Harry. He wants them all to survive this.It’s hard to focus on much else. 

“Tell me a story.” He decides eventually, leaning in to Niall enough to bump him in the ribs. 

“What kind of story would you like to hear?”

“One with a happy ending.” Liam muses. 

“Oh, well, Liam, I have many stories that end with a _happy ending_.” Niall waggles his eyebrows, laughing hysterically at his own joke as Liam groans. He sort of set himself up for that one, he thinks.

“Never mind.” Liam mumbles, path veering further away from Niall now. 

“No, come on.” Niall jogs a few steps, wrapping his arm around Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you the story of how I met Tyrion Lannister?”

Liam blinks at him a few times, examining Niall’s eternally unreadable expression. 

“You met the imp?”

“Hey now,” Niall waves a warning finger at Liam. “He doesn’t like being called that. Name’s Tyrion, and he deserves the respect of us all calling him that.”

Liam flushes instantly, feeling guilty, as he always does on the rare occasion that he is scolded by Niall. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Niall shrugs. “So. He likes to travel, yeah? He came through Tarth once, a long while ago now, when I was still Lord Horan. He wanted to talk to my father, something about supporting the Lannisters in the battle at Blackwater, you know how it is. Boring father stuff.”

“Right.” Liam nods. He remains so far unimpressed with this story, but knowing Niall and having heard tales of Tyrion Lannister the half man, he’s predicting a vulgar and humorous ending.

“He came into the tavern I was at. Took one look at me sittin’ there, cup of wine in one hand, the other in between a whore’s legs, and he said to me, ‘I think you and I are going to be great friends’”. Niall smiles wistfully as he recalls the memory, patting Liam’s shoulder. 

“Then we got incredibly drunk and later that night we fucked the same girl.” He adds, beaming. “It was a great day. Never saw him again after that, of course.”

“Wow” is all Liam can say, laughing as he pushes Niall off him. “You truly are spectacularly crude.”

“I wasn’t made for wandering through mountains and killing wildlings.” Niall tells him, though he smirks mischievously as he says it. “I was made for a much finer life than this.”

“And it was the finer life that did you in.” Liam reminds him with a smirk of his own. 

“You are correct on that one, my friend.”

They both smile, Liam looking down at his own feet as they sink into the snow while Niall looks up at the birds squawking above them. It stays like that for a while, silent except for the birds, until Liam hears the sound of footsteps that aren’t their own.

He hears it before Niall, but Niall apparently sees it before Liam, and before either of them have time to say anything, there’s three wildlings charging at them with axes.

Liam draws his sword quickly but knocks one of the wildlings down with a kick to the chest rather than raising his weapon. He glances quickly at the man’s face, long enough to identify him as decidedly not-Zayn, before plunging his sword through the wildlings chest. 

He whips around quickly, blocking the swing of the second wildling with one arm while the other pushes his bloody sword through the stomach of the scrawny wildling, in perfect synchronisation with Niall hacking down at the third wildling with his own axe, cutting him through the chest.

Blood seeps into the snow underneath them, and Liam knows they should probably burn them, but he doesn’t want to alert any other nearby wildlings to their location. 

“Didn’t want to spare these ones?” Niall asks, panting breaths steaming the air in front of his face.

Liam glares back at him. 

It had been foolish, Liam thinks as he wipes some sweat from his brow, to not consider that there would be other wildlings out here. Being that the entirety of his time with Zayn and Louis was spent just the four of them, completely isolated and undisturbed until he was unfairly pulled away by the Night’s Watch, Liam had fallen into the false assumption that there was just no one else out here in the mountainous wilderness. Nothing, no one, but them and the snow. 

There’ll be others. Liam knows that now.

He doesn’t care. It’s not going to stop him.

 

/ / /

 

It’s early in the morning, before the sun has risen, when Liam starts to feel it.

They’ve been walking for a large majority of the day and well into the night each day, only allowing themselves a few hours of rest a night, hoping to catch Zayn and Louis by surprise while they’re sleeping. It’s potentially the only way they have a chance of actually getting the upper hand. 

Liam can barely see anything around him, anything beyond Niall and Phantom, who has remained in close range for the past couple of days, and though he’s fatigued and exhausted and hungry, Liam still trusts his instincts. That’s how he knows that this feeling is absolutely correct.

“They’re close.” Liam whispers to Niall, who immediately whips his head around to look at him. “I can feel it. I… I know it.”

Almost on cue, Liam starts to be able to make out the outline of a cave in the distance, the entrance glowing with the sign of fire. Harry is in there. _Zayn_ is in there. Liam just knows it, feels it inside him in a way he can’t quite describe.

“You’re sure?” Niall whispers back.

“I’m sure.” Liam nods, a large lump forming in his throat and restricting his breathing. He tries to calm himself with a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t work. “I can feel it. My brother is in there.”

Niall nods, trusting Liam’s judgement, and Liam notices his left hand drop to the sword tucked in his belt.

It’s dark still, but the sun will be up at any moment. They need to act fast, or they’ll lose their advantage. Except Liam still has no idea what they’re going to do.

“What are we going to do?” Niall asks, reading Liam’s mind. “Fight them? Try and talk?” He pauses before adding, nearly inaudibly, “Kill them?”

Liam takes another deep breath, in, out. And another. In, out. The lump remains, and is now joined by a familiar sick feeling in his stomach.

“I feel like that decision will be made for us, Niall.” He says, words nearly getting lost in the whirr of the wind.

Liam looks at Niall now, locks eyes with him, and through the darkness, he can still see the fear and apprehension clear in Niall’s eyes. He’s sure he’s mirroring him with a similar look, but he steels himself, hands shaking as he grips his sword and pulls it from his belt, as quietly as he can. 

_For Harry,_ he repeats to himself. _Harry, Harry, Harry._

His brother’s name echoes in his mind with each step he takes as the approach the cave, ominous and growing closer. 

Liam hesitates at the opening of the cave, gesturing for Phantom to stay back. Niall peers at him cautiously, but Liam avoids his eye, grip tightening on his sword and shaky breaths wracking his chest as he tries to calm himself. One wrong move could ruin everything. One wrong move could kill Harry, or Zayn, or Niall. This needs to be done right.

He takes a step into the cave now, around the edge of the opening until he can see a small fire in the middle of the cave, two sleeping bodies to its left, and one—

One body, delicate and dark and familiar in a way that rips a hole in Liam’s chest, sitting up and watching the other two. 

His face is sullen, hair a mess and beard longer than ever, but it’s Zayn, and he’s awake, he’s _here_ , and he’s now looking at Liam. 

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the cave at once, Zayn’s eyes glued on Liam, the sound of the flickering embers distant and far away as Liam’s pulse throbs loudly in his ears. 

And then Zayn tears his eyes away and lets out a cry, a loud shout that wakes Louis instantly from where he lays next to Harry. 

It isn’t like last time, where Liam had been paralysed to a spot on the floor, unable to speak or move. The sight and presence of his brother forces Liam into action, wrestling Louis to the ground as he reaches for Harry. In the corner of Liam’s eye, Niall launches himself at Zayn, Phantom on his heels. 

Louis looks startled, laying underneath Liam with wide eyes and ruffled hair, and he’s swinging his arms aggressively at Liam, pounding his back with closed fists, but he doesn’t have a weapon, and he’s only just woken up, so he doesn’t have an advantage. 

Liam doesn’t want to use his weapon, is the thing. He doesn’t want to hurt Louis at all, despite his fist currently connecting with the side of Louis’ head, but if putting up a fight is the only way to get his brother to safety, he’ll do it. 

Just as Liam’s fist is about to strike down on Louis again, He feels a hand grabbing at the back of his coat, and suddenly he’s being yanked off Louis and aggressively thrown to the ground. Liam jumps up before Zayn has a chance to mount him to the ground, and though he has the opportunity to, Liam still doesn’t draw his sword.

“Zayn.” Liam pleads, holding his hands up, lip quivering between his teeth. “Zayn, I don’t want to do this.”

Zayn’s eyes are dark, expression unreadable as he lunges at Liam, trying to connect a punch to Liam’s face. Liam dodges it, but doesn’t step far enough back that he’s completely out of Zayn’s reach.

He needs to know. He needs to see that Liam doesn’t want to hurt him, could never hurt him, not again. Not intentionally. He wants Harry back, and he wants him to be safe, but he doesn’t want this. He never wanted any of this.

“Please, Zayn. I love you.”

It sounds more like a desperate apology than the fervent declaration that it is. Liam knows it doesn’t change anything, knows that it doesn’t erase what has happened and what he’s done - what they’ve done to each other - but he needs to say it. He needs Zayn to know, even just once, that Liam loves him. Liam is _in love_ with him, and has been for what feels like his whole life.

He knows he doesn’t deserve a response, so he doesn’t expect one - he also doesn’t expect Zayn’s arrow shot into his arm. Liam supposes that’s why it hurts so much more than it should.

The shot nearly knocks him down, but he steadies himself, staring down at the tail end of the arrow blankly. It’s sticking out of his coat at the top of his right arm, piercing his skin an inch or so underneath, and though he can’t see it, Liam knows he’s bleeding. He can feel the blood building under the layers of fur, but it doesn’t bother him. He _knows_ the arrow is hurting his arm far more than he _feels_ it.

He doesn’t want to look at Zayn, doesn’t want to see the look on his face, thinks it might break his damn heart to see Zayn looking at him with the hurt and betrayal he already knows is there, but he needs to. He needs to see Zayn, one more time. Maybe the last time. 

Zayn’s eyes are glassy, is the first thing Liam notices. Zayn’s eyes are always the first thing Liam notices, thinks he could pick them out of a crowd of one thousand men. But the look in them right now is something Liam never hoped to see. It’s anger, and it’s sadness and it’s devastation Liam understands far more than he’d like to. Zayn’s lips are quivering, shaking, dark eyebrows are drawn together, and Liam never thought something so beautiful would make him want to snap himself in two. Zayn’s arm is still cocked from where he shot his arrow, and it twitches as he chokes out an unsteady breath. 

He thinks he hears Louis call out in pain, thinks he sees him swinging at Niall, maybe he sees Harry scrambling on the floor, but it doesn’t register in his brain. There’s no room for anything else at this moment, nothing except Zayn and the soul-crushing look he’s giving Liam the and the way Liam hates himself right now more than he ever has before.

“Come on!” Niall yells suddenly, grabbing at Liam and pulling him into a clumsy run. He’s not sure at what point Niall freed Harry from Louis’ grip, but he has him now, and he holds onto the elbow of Liam’s good arm with one hand, the other holding onto Harry’s hand as near drags them both behind him. 

They run, faster and harder than Liam ever has in his life. They run through the snow, in the opposite direction from the way they’d come, over hills and around mountains. They run until Liam’s chest burns and his eyes are stinging with tears, but Liam knows it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because Zayn and Louis aren’t coming after them. Zayn and Louis let them go. 

Liam doesn’t know whether he’s glad for that or not.

 

/ / /

 

“Hold still.” Harry mumbles. 

His hand brushes against the entry wound on Liam’s shoulder, sending shockwaves of pain through Liam’s whole body. He doesn’t flinch.

“I'm still.” Liam insists bluntly. 

“I know, thank you.” Harry replies, voice calm and even. He pauses for a moment, carefully surveying Liam’s face with the hint of a smile curving his lips. “Always the perfect patient.” He glances over his shoulder at Niall, who has one arm wrapped around his middle and the other up to his mouth, biting his nails. “He used to hurt himself all the time when we were younger, this one.”

Liam stares straight ahead, catching Harry cautiously peering at the arrow still sticking out of Liam’s shoulder in his peripheral vision. He pulls back with a deep sigh after a long moment, resting his hands on his thighs, legs tucked underneath him. 

“It’s in there pretty deep.” Harry tells him, looking forlorn. “But good news is it looks like it missed the bone. You’ll have to wait until we get to Winterfell to get it out. Maester Luwin will have a look and fix you up.”

Liam uses his good arm to push himself off the ground, ignoring Niall’s outstretched hand. 

“How does it feel?” Niall asks, helping Harry clumsily rise to his feet. The damp grass has left wet patches all over both of their pants, which are now rubbing uncomfortably against Liam’s skin. 

“Feels like Hell.” Liam’s voice is quiet, no energy behind it as he struggles to find a comfortable position for his arm. He drops his head to the ground, biting the inside of his bottom lip. “Feels like I deserved it.” 

Neither Harry nor Niall answer him, and though it could be because they simply don’t know how to respond, he takes their lack of response as a sign of silent agreement.

He didn’t think it would ever come to this. Love isn’t supposed to be like this, he thinks, trying as hard as he can to ignore the pain spreading from his shoulder throughout his whole arm. Love is supposed to be stolen kisses and wide smiles and a big wedding feast and children and happily ever after. Not this. Not pain, and hurt, and feeling like nothing in the world could ever make any of it okay. 

But that’s the price that comes with being a bastard, Liam realises sadly, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He’s been able to fight them back since he was shot, but he can’t. He just can’t anymore, the weight of it all, of the tragedy that has been his whole life, crashing on him at once.

“Liam,” Niall speaks suddenly. He’s smiling uneasily, as though he’s afraid that one wrong word or movement could push Liam over the edge. Maybe it could. “I know it…” He trails off, quickly glancing at Harry for help that doesn’t come, and sighs. He tries again, “I can’t imagine it all. But… I know Zayn. We know Zayn. And one thing I learned about him when we were all together is that he never misses.”

Niall pauses for a long moment, letting the weight of his words wash over Liam. Harry seems to get it, eyes widening ever so slightly as he drops his gaze to Liam’s shoulder.

“We’ve been hunting with him. We’ve heard Louis brag about it. Zayn is a perfect shot.”

“I know, Niall, and I’ve got the arrow in my arm to prove it.” Liam chokes out, the last few words disguised by a quiet sob.

“No, Liam, you aren’t listening.” Niall takes a step towards him, eyes locked on Liam’s. “He _never misses_.”

“What he means, Li,” Harry starts, rubbing a hand through the hair on the back of Liam’s hair affectionately. “Is that if Zayn, like, wanted you dead, you’d be dead. He’d have hit your heart, not your shoulder.”

“Feels like he hit my heart.” Liam half-whispers, half-mumbles, feeling pathetic. Whether Harry and Niall hear him or not doesn’t seem to matter.

“He didn’t want to kill you, Liam.” Niall assures him. “Doesn’t. He doesn’t want to. He still cares about you, mustn’t he?”

“Definitely felt like it to me.” Harry adds, and Liam can see him nodding in enthusiastic agreement out of the corner of his eye. 

Liam considers this, and though it doesn’t assuage his guilt and sadness to think that Zayn could, maybe, after everything, love him too, he knows Niall’s right. If Zayn wanted to kill Liam, Liam wouldn’t be standing here to discuss it right now. And even in a hopeless situation, that still means something to Liam. 

Liam nods at an expectant Niall and Harry, who were apparently waiting with bated breath for some sort of response. 

“Let’s get a move on, before my arm falls off.” Liam smiles weakly, earning a genuine laugh out of the other two men. 

Harry skips ahead after that, and Liam notices with mild amusement that Phantom seems eager to join him. Though he remains loyally at Liam’s side, keeping perfect time with Liam’s strides, his eyes follow Harry’s every movement. 

“Go on.” Liam whispers to him, giving him a pat on the side for good measure. “Go play.”

Phantom confirms the permission with a tilt of his head, to which Liam responds with a jerk of his own head in Harry’s direction. Not needing to be told twice, apparently, Phantom bounds off ahead, chasing after Harry. He follows him for a while, occasionally nudging Harry’s thighs with his nose when Harry starts to slow down. 

Liam watches them carefully, eyes shining, and though Niall’s right beside him, he completely disappears from Liam’s vision for a moment. All he sees is Phantom, happy and energetic, playing with Liam’s little brother, whose cheeks are rosy and hair wild. It’s a scene Liam has witnessed dozens of times in his life, but one he thought he’d committed to a life of never seen again. 

At least he has that, Liam thinks. At least if everything else is horrible, and he never gets to see the man he loves again, and he has to spend the rest of his life away from his family, at least Harry is happy. At least Harry is free. That’s worth more than a lot of other things to Liam. 

He falls back into step with Liam after a while, nearly out of breath from all the running, though Phantom seems to be not even close to tired. 

“You’re in an unusually good mood for someone who has spent the last few days being held hostage.” Liam mumbles, bitter tones still present in his voice.

“Well,” Harry shrugs, taking deep breaths between his words. “you were their hostage. You know what it’s like. They’re pleasant enough.”

Liam doesn’t respond, the word ‘pleasant’ ringing in his ears. It sounds alien to him. His time with Louis and Zayn had been a lot of things, but looking back now, Liam doesn’t know if he would ever use the word ‘pleasant’.

“Though from what I’ve heard neither of you fucked Louis. So. Maybe that’s it.”

Liam chokes on his own breath, clutching Niall’s shoulder for support with his good arm as he comes to a stop in the dewy grass.

“You _what_?”

Harry grins wickedly, squeezing Liam’s flushed cheeks with gloved hands. 

“S’pose I should thank you for that one, big brother!” 

“No you—“ Liam shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “You and Louis?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiles airily. “He’s great.”

“Isn’t he?” Niall chimes in, grinning at Harry. 

“I thought Zayn was lovely too.” Harry adds as an afterthought, mostly to Niall. “But, like, not my type. Bit… I dunno, mopey, I guess, for me.”

“Zayn’s not mopey.” Liam finds himself snapping instinctively, surprising himself. Niall seems to ignore him completely, though Harry gives him an acknowledging look.

“Can’t imagine the type.” Niall snorts, throwing his arm around Harry now and rolling his eyes dramatically in Liam’s direction. 

“No, this is— don’t change the subject!” Liam demands, sounding an awful lot like a petulant child. “You lay with Louis?”

“A lady does’t kiss and tell.” Harry winks. “Though if I’m walking a bit funny today, that—“

“Do not.” Liam warns, shooting daggers in Harry’s direction. He can feel something building in his stomach that feels a lot like bile. “On our father’s name, do not finish that sentence.”

Harry doesn’t, which Liam is thankful for, but the grin he’s biting back like he definitely has some filthy things in his head right now is almost worse than the words itself. Liam just shakes his head at him, not missing the way Harry’s smile falters as Liam drops his gaze back to the ground. 

Two years ago, if he had’ve caught that look, Liam’s head would’ve whipped up so fast he’d give himself whiplash, and he’d apologise profusely and make a stupid joke to see Harry laugh again. Anything to make Harry laugh again. But it’s not two years ago, so instead, Liam just clears his throat and keeps walking, boots starting to dampen around the toe from walking through the dewy grass for so long. His steps are out of sync with both Harry, who’s walking to his left, and Niall, who’s two steps in front of him on his right, and though it’s not warm out by any stretch of the imagination, it’s a warmer climate than Lam's been privy to for such a long time. 

“How’s Gemma?” Liam asks, voice sounding strangled. Harry’s head snaps up immediately, grin coming back into its place between his dimples. Liam feels the warmth of it spreading through his veins, hitting him hardest somewhere in his chest.

“Gemma’s good. Really good.” Harry nods. “She’s to marry Loras Tyrell.”

“What?” Liam near-snaps. Even Niall’s interest is peaked now, his head whipped around to give Harry a confused look. “Loras? Isn’t he, y’know—“

“As gay as the two of you?” Niall finishes for Liam, who raises his eyebrows in agreement.

“Yep.” Harry sighs contentedly, still smiling. “Gemma knows that. It is the worst kept secret in all the Seven Kingdoms. Just means she gets to see Margaery more often. And High Garden is just, really, so pretty. Not a bad place to be spending the rest of your life.”

“And your mum?” Liam just barely manages, voice catching on itself. 

“She’s good.” Harry says, voice too high and coming out a little squeaky. “She misses you.” 

A blatant lie.

“You’re lying.” Liam tells him, but he bumps his shoulder into Harry as he says it, giving him an appreciative smile (the most he can manage, anyway). 

“She’s busy, most days. I mean, technically I’m Prince of the North and that, but everyone knows it’s all her.” Harry grins, though he seems to be trying to suppress it for Liam’s sake. “Mum’s the brains of the operation. I’m pretty much entirely useless.” he tells Niall, whispering conspiratorially. 

There’s a long silence where Harry doesn’t speak any more on the matter, and Liam and Niall don’t ask any more questions.

“She misses father a lot.” Harry finally adds, softly. “We all do.”

“Yeah.” Liam breathes. It’s all he can manage, really. All air was knocked out of him at first mention of the word ‘father’. 

‘ _Look after Harry.’_ It was the last thing Liam had said to his father. _‘Look after yourself’_ was his fathers response.

Neither ended up happening, and Liam feels like they both failed each other. But that just makes sense, doesn’t it? Because Liam is always failing people, even after they’ve died. 

Things had been so simple once, even if they didn’t feel simple at the time. Liam and Harry and Gemma were all together, playing around and making up stupid games and squabbling like children, and even if Anne resented Liam, even if she was never good at hiding it, she had Des and he was alive and they were both happy. A few years and some bad decisions later, and Liam has joined and abandoned the Night’s Watch and fallen in love with a Wildling, Gemma’s to spend the rest of her life married one of the gayest men in all of Westeros and may never see Liam again, Harry has been kidnapped and their father is dead.

Everything’s turned to shit, really. Liam wonders if it’ll ever get better.

Niall clears his throat now, shooting the brothers an uneasy yet reassuring smile. A gesture that doesn’t go unappreciated by Liam. 

“So, what do actually you do then—” Niall smirks at Harry now, playfully bowing. “Prince of Winterfell?”

“Protect the North.” Harry says, even slower than his usual tone, eyes darting back to Liam. “From… like, wildlings, basically.”

And, well, if the mood wasn’t ruined before, it certainly is now.

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

 

/ / /

 

A shaggy, grey-and-white furred direwolf is waiting just outside of Winterfell, head held high in the air and eyes steeled. When it spots them, it bounds towards them so quickly that Liam barely even has time to register it before Harry is being knocked backwards, onto his back in the grass.

“Betty!” Harry exclaims, wrapping his arms around the wolf’s shoulders, not at all attempting to get up. “Oh I’ve missed you.”

“Betty?” Niall squints at the display of man-direwolf affection unfolding at his feet, Harry’s long limbs lost among grey and white fur.

Liam smiles weakly, bending over and searching blindly for Harry’s hand. He finds it after a few moments, and the wolf backs off as Liam lifts his younger brother to his feet. Harry is covered in fur now, pale grey and white wisps carpeting his front and scattered amongst his hair - half of which has fallen from his tight bun to sit messily just below his shoulders. 

“This is Lord Elizabeth.” Harry grins at Niall, absent-mindedly running a hand through the coarse hair on Betty’s head. Phantom rubs against him on his other side, head tucked into Harry’s waist. “But I call him Betty for short.”

“Him?” Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, tilting his head, eyes scanning the body of the wolf, more than likely searching for an anatomical sign of gender.

“Yes.” Harry bends down just enough to touch his lips to Betty’s head and mumble something in his ear before straightening himself back up. “He’s from a highborn family so he needed a highborn name.” Harry leans in closer to Niall, waggling his eyebrows. “But his friends call him Betty.”

Niall bursts out laughing, nudging in next to Phantom to throw an arm around Harry’s broad shoulders. 

“I’m so glad we met.” Niall giggles into Harry’s neck. “You have lived up to every one of my expectations.”

Harry giggles back, only able to lean into Niall’s embrace for a brief moment before Niall is bounding ahead, Betty and Phantom falling no more than two feet behind him as they run at his heels.

It’s the first time Harry and Liam have been alone, really, since they saved Harry. Since before Liam left for the Wall. 

They used to speak every day. They lived together, bedrooms next to each other in the incredible castle they called home, but more than that, they were best friends. 

He worries about Harry, like a constant nagging in the back of his mind. It’s his duty as a big brother. But he knows that Harry worries about him too - mostly because Harry knows Liam like the back of his hand, knows him well enough to know that melancholy is never far from his mind. 

“When was the last time you ate?” Harry asks gently, a concerned tone there that Liam hasn’t heard since he was 18 and Harry was 17 and Liam was spending so much time in the armoury that he’d started sleeping there. Liam never had a mother, but he never felt like he needed one with Harry around. Harry always cared enough about Liam for a dozen people. 

“I don’t need food.” Liam replies simply, sharply, as though Harry really is a nagging mother.

“Strictly speaking, yes, you do.” He can see Harry smiling out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like me to go get you something?”

“Would you like me to pretend you’d actually kill something yourself?”

“No, we both know I’d get Niall to do it.” He looks at Harry just long enough to catch his lop-sided smile, but looks away quick enough to avoid instinctually mirroring it. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

“I don’t need food or thoughts.” Liam’s voice is level, quiet. He knows he’s being rude. He doesn’t have it in him to care at the moment.

Harry retreats to silence now, either startled by Liam’s sharpness or carefully considering his next words. The grass beneath them makes a slightly wet sound as they step, Liam’s legs carrying him forward beyond all effort, familiar towers and turrets in the distance growing larger and closer with each step. They’ll be at Winterfell in a matter of hours, which Liam is endlessly grateful for, given the fact that he still has an arrow sticking out of his arm that he would very much like to have taken out.

“I want to ask how you are…” Harry starts again, voice even slower and more drawn out than usual. “but I know since father died, there’s nothing I hate more than people asking me how I feel. Can’t imagine this is…” He sighs quietly, hand twitching by his side, like he’s fighting against himself to keep still, to keep from reaching out to touch Liam. “Considering all that’s happened, I think that answer’s sort of obvious.”

Liam’s response of silence serves as more of an agreement to Harry’s statement rather than rudeness. He hopes Harry takes it that way, anyway. 

He’s angry. He’s upset and frustrated and sad and overwhelmed with all these feelings that he’s previously had the fortune of only feeling in moderation. 

He’s everything, and he’s nothing, and it’s eating away at his insides and clawing him to shreds. 

He misses Zayn. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Liam.” Harry tells him softly, each word piercing Liam’s skin. “You’re allowed to be sad.”

“There’s no lesson here.” Liam says suddenly, stern and bitter. “There’s no happy ending. There’s just nothing. In a fair world, father would still be alive, there would be no war, you would still be in Winterfell, away from this mess, your mother would love me like a real mother does, or mine would still be alive, Joffrey Baratheon would have never existed, Zayn would be a Lord or something, I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be attracted to men…” He clears his throat, blinking his eyes a few times to clear the haziness that has procured. Harry remains wordless next to him. “But this is not a fair world, Harry. Instead, we must all live in misery.”

“No.” Harry says, stubbornly and, as Liam notices when he looks up, with a frown.

“What?”

“No.” Harry repeats. “We don’t have to live in misery.”

“Ha—“

“When I was a child,” Harry cuts in, looking at Liam sternly yet lovingly in a way that only Harry can manage. “I loved to climb.”

“I remember.” Liam chimes in quietly.

“I climbed everything, anything I could find. I was a proper show off. Just wanted to make everyone laugh, have people’s attention.” It worked. Harry had everyone wrapped around his finger from a very early age. “And one day, I fell. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” Liam replies wistfully, the memories flooding back to him as if they’d been locked behind a wall. He was no more than seven when it happened. “That big tower near the south of the castle.”

“It was a big fall. I was lucky, Maester said, to have even survived. So, of course, mother banned me from climbing ever again. Said she’d string me up by my ankles if she caught me.”

Liam and Harry both chuckle quietly at this, easing the tension just enough. 

“I hated her for it at the time. I was six, I just wanted to climb!” Harry is grinning now. “But do you remember what you said to me?”

“Tomorrow in the yard, I’ll teach you how to shoot an arrow?” Liam guesses, earning another laugh from Harry.

“Yes.” Harry smiles. “But after that. You pointed out my window, at the sky, and said, ‘Harry, look at the sun. It’s still shining. And it will, tomorrow and the next day too, even if you can’t see it through the clouds.’” 

Liam remembers it now. He had been sitting on Harry’s bed, hands resting on his legs and heart in his throat. He needed to say whatever he could to make his brother feel better. 

“It will all be okay, I promise.” Harry finishes, no louder than a whisper but with all the conviction in the world behind it. 

Liam’s not sure he believes that. Not sure he could, after everything that’s happened. Everything that’s still to come. 

“Do you really think so?” His voice comes out much higher than before. He sounds like a child.

“No.” Harry replies, still speaking softly. “But there’s nothing wrong with having hope. Especially when it’s all you have left.”

Hope seems like a foreign concept at this point, something that Liam used to know, maybe in a previous life, maybe many years ago, but not anymore. _Hope is for fools_ , he thinks to himself. He doesn’t dare say it out loud, not to Harry.

 

/ / /

 

Winterfell looks exactly as Liam had remembered it.

He’s not sure why he expected it to look different - he just did. He feels as though enough time has gone by and so much has happened that something would have changed. But it stands all the same, brick towers high and intimidating, people bustling around as they go about their day, snow covering most surfaces. 

If he looks to his left, he can see Ser Rodrik, walking towards the armoury with a sword in each hand, with a few unfamiliar men following him. If he looks above that, he can see Gemma’s bedroom window, facing out onto the yards as was her request.

And if he looks straight ahead, he can see about seven people staring at him with slack-jawed shock.

Because, fuck, of course, he’s supposed to be on the Wall. He’s supposed to be apart of the Night’s Watch, and here he is in Winterfell, standing next to his brother and the man formerly known as Lord Niall of House Horan, as if nothing strange is occurring. He’s abandoned the Watch.

Before Liam gets a chance to speak on this, Harry does it first.

“The most important thing is finding Maester Luwin.” He tells Liam, nodding to the arrow that is still protruding from Liam’s arm. “Once we get that sorted, we’ll—“

“We’ll figure out a plan.” Niall finishes for him, a bit too cheerfully as he squeezes on Liam’s good shoulder. 

It’s not that Liam believes Niall at all, but he doesn’t have it in him to argue. He’s bleeding out, and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down, and if he doesn’t find Maester Luwin and get himself stitched up as soon as possible, things will go from shit to utterly hopeless.

But at least, maybe then he’ll die and be at peace. He thinks he’d rather like that right now.

The gravel covering the yards of Winterfell crunches underfoot as Liam, Niall and Harry walk, huddled close together. Liam keeps his gaze fixed on the ground, hoping his long hair and beard will adequately protect him from being recognised any further as the bastard of Winterfell. Though the way Harry is walking close to him, refusing to be more than inches from him at all times, is making it look rather obvious. 

There’s not many people in the yard today, no more than any other given day, which Liam is grateful for. Right now, he just needs to get the arrow out of his arm. The rest they deal with later.

(Because not thinking ahead has worked out _so_ well for them thus far).

“Where would you like to go after this, Liam?” Niall asks carefully, curiously, as though he’d read Liam’s mind. Liam strongly considers ignoring him altogether.

“What do you mean, Niall?” He asks, trying not to sound tired.

Niall stops in his tracks, gripping lightly on Liam’s good arm to bring him to a stop too. Harry, Liam notices, is looking at him too, as though they’re waiting for Liam to answer a question he doesn’t know the answer to. 

“I mean, are we going to get your boy, or not?” Niall smiles, tilting his head. 

Liam opens his mouth to answer, entirely sure of what will fall out, but before he can manage anything, he’s cut off by the ear-piercing blare of a horn. 

His blood runs cold, turning to ice in his veins as he stares dumbly at Harry. Harry returns the look, mirrors it exactly, and Niall looks from Harry to Liam with a worried expression.

“Does that mean the same thing here as it means in Tarth?” Niall asks, voice shaking and hand gripping Liam’s shoulder as if he’s scared to let go. Maybe he is scared. Maybe Liam is too. 

“We’re being attacked.” Harry says, face pale. “Winterfell is under attack.”

“They’re too many.” Liam worries, biting on his lip to distract from the pain shooting through his entire body now. “We’re not prepared.”

“We are the Starks of Winterfell." Harry proclaims proudly, stubbornly, spitting a little as he does. “We own the North. And we shall destroy anyone who tries to take it from us.”

“I don’t think taking the North is their goal.” Niall chimes in, and the entire castle is in panic now, scurrying around to ready themselves and find their armour and swords. Liam feels exposed in his travelling furs, vulnerable to any sort of attack that he may encounter. Between that and the wound in his arm, he’ll be virtually useless in this battle. He’ll fall before any others. 

All three of their heads whip around at the sound of banging on the gates, loud, incessant banging teamed with the sudden appearance of several ragged looking men climbing over the walls of Winterfell with grappling hooks. 

“Well, Liam.” Niall calls over the clamouring of swords and weaponry, drawing his own from his belt and holding it out in front of him. “We don’t have to worry about going to get your boy. Think he’s come to get us.”

“Yeah, and he brought friends.” Harry grumbles, he too drawing his sword. He starts off in the opposite direction of the gates, calling over his shoulder to them, “I’ll go rally the men. Stay alive, okay? Niall, get Liam to Maester Luwin!” 

One look at Niall from Liam is enough to let him know that Liam does not want nor expect him to do any of the sort; they will stay and protect Winterfell, protect the gates, as much as they can.

It is their job, after all - protecting the realm. 

The gate finally comes crashing down after a few more hits, and wildlings come pouring into the castle grounds. Liam’s vision is hazy, he realises as he watches a Northerner he doesn’t recognise be stabbed in the stomach five times. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes together before opening them again, but it doesn’t help. He’s losing it. 

“Liam!” Niall calls, whipping his head around just long enough to check on Liam from where he is swinging violently at a much larger wildling. “Liam, find the Maester!”

Liam tries to nod, realising now that fighting is futile. He can’t fight anyone if he can’t stand. 

He feels himself slipping, feels his sword falling from his grasp, and he can’t fight off the darkness any longer.

Falling to the ground still hurts a lot less than leaving Zayn did.

 

/ / /

 

Everything is black and Liam is so light. 

He thinks he might be dead. Is he dead? Oh, he really hopes he isn’t dead. Niall would kill him if he were dead.

He hears yelling, screaming, metal clanging, but it sounds distant, like it’s coming from miles away. Liam knows it isn’t.

Are his eyes open? He can’t even tell. 

They’re definitely open now. It’s all blurry, whatever it is that he’s looking at. He hears a voice and feels someone squeezing his arm, and shit, he’d forgotten he still has an arrow in his shoulder. It really fucking hurts.

A face is peering down at him. The face is hazy, but he can recognise what he feels must be genuine concern. Sadness, maybe. Whoever it is doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking down at Liam, and as he blinks once, twice more, the face starts to come into focus. But— _shit_. Maybe he is dead.

“Am I dead?”

He has to be dead. And if he isn’t, he’s about to be. 

“No.” Zayn shakes his head, mouth pressed together in a tight line. His voice sounds rough, like he hasn’t spoken in weeks. Liam can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s sure that what he’s seeing in Zayn’s face isn’t anger. “Not… not yet.”

Zayn’s trembling hand brushes against Liam’s entry wound, and Liam tries not to openly wince at the feeling. It doesn’t work.

“You shot me.” Liam manages, voice weak and shaky. 

“You left me.” Zayn retorts, hand gripping harder on Liam’s bicep, his good arm.

“Guess that makes us even then.” Liam smiles weakly. For Zayn. Because if these are his last moments, he’s going to give one last smile to the person who deserves it most. 

Zayn’s gaze is on Liam’s face, but he looks like he’s concentrating. Like he’s trying to memorise it all. Or perhaps he’s trying not to look at the blood, pooling all around them and coating Zayn’s hands. There’s a lot of blood, Liam can feel it, thick and wet surrounding him, but more than that he can feel how _light_ he is without it. He feels himself drifting further away, but swallows hard, locking eyes with Zayn, allowing it to pull him back.

“I love you too, Liam.” Zayn swallows hard around the words, holder Liam even tighter in his lap now. “Just wanted a chance to say it. Before I don’t have that chance anymore.”

He means it, Liam realises, before any part of him can dispute the fact. He loves Zayn, and Zayn loves him, and he’s going to die, because his life was never destined to be anything other than a tragedy. Cursed, from the second he was born to a father who committed adultery and a mother he never knew. 

Liam’s lips part, breath shaking and he tries, tries so hard to say something back, anything, but all that comes is a weak cough that racks his entire body. He feels as though his brain is rattling around in his skull. He can’t feel his legs.

“Zayn, I—“ He manages finally, but, no, _no_ , he doesn’t get there in time. To tell him what he wants to tell him, or to warn him about what’s about to happen. 

The Stark bannerman that had been charging at Zayn rips him from Liam now, Zayn’s fingers digging into Liam, clinging to him, not letting go until an impactful punch connects with the side of Zayn’s head. He lands on the ground a few feet from Liam with a loud, resonating thud, but Liam doesn’t have time to react, doesn’t have time to help him, because new arms are wrapping around him now, clinging to his good arm and dragging him across the sharpness of the stones beneath them. 

Dark curls fall in his face, answering a question he doesn’t have the awareness or energy to ask. Feeling his eyes drifting shut again, Liam reaches up with his injured arm, squeezing onto something, anything, what feels like an arm. He squeezes as hard as he can (which is to say that he barely squeezes at all), watching as he’s dragged around a corner, much more even ground beneath him now.

“’S gonna be okay, Li.” A voice comes, and Liam knows that voice. It’s shaky and it’s uncertain in a way he’s never heard it before, but it’s Harry, it’s his brother. His brother saved him. Harry saved Liam, but Liam needs to save Zayn. “Gemma’s here. Gemma’s going to look after you.”

Liam can’t feel his hands anymore, watches through barely-open eyes as his hand drops from it’s weak grip on Harry’s arm, watches it fall back to his side, watches it fade to black in front of him. 

He thinks he hears himself say something, thinks he hears his own voice just before it all goes dark, one word barely heard amongst the chaos.

“ _Zayn_.”

 

/ / /

 

When he wakes again, it’s with a start, attempt at bolting upright thwarted by a strong hand pressing on his chest and pushing him back down.

“Relax.” Harry says, hand remaining on Liam’s chest, though it’s rubbing affectionately now. “It’s okay, Liam.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, the effort of it hurting his entire chest. He’s exhausted.

“Harry.” Liam breathes, eyes fixed upwards on his little brother. Harry’s hair is hanging in his face, damp and dirty. He looks about as good as Liam feels. “You’re alive.”

“Yes.” Harry replies simply, smiling as his hand lifts from Liam’s chest. “You need to rest for now, though. Master Luwin removed the arrow from your shoulder while you were unconscious, but you lost a lot of blood.”

He pauses for a moment, dropping his gaze from Liam’s and licking his lips quickly. He sounds completely broken when he says “We nearly lost you, Li.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Liam chokes out, wrapping a hand around Harry’s wrist. 

“No.” Harry looks at Liam again now, shaking his head, lips pressed together in a firm line. “No, don’t apologise. Wasn’t you fault.”

“Feels like it is.” Liam responds, managing a feeble smile. 

Before Harry can refute him any further, someone clears their throat from somewhere across the room. Liam lifts himself up slightly, cranes his neck just enough to see Niall, leaning against the cold stone walls and beaming at him. His face is covered in mud, dust and blood - whether it’s his or not, Liam isn’t sure - and his hair is sticking out in every direction, but he looks mostly okay. He’s alive, is the main thing. 

Whatever had happened out there, whatever happened with the wildlings, Harry and Niall are okay. That’s the most important thing, he reminds himself, though it does nothing to assuage the feeling of dread in his gut as he relives his final moments before blacking out in his mind. Zayn laying on the ground, Liam being dragged away from him. 

“Here,” Harry reaches down, lifting Liam further and propping him up into a seated position. He’s in Harry’s bed, he realises. He has no idea of how he got here or how long he’s been out, but the sun is starting to go down outside the windows, the sky a cloudy, dark blue. 

The blankets beneath him are thick, grey and brown gradient furs as familiar to him as his own skin, and it all feels like taking a deep breath after being held underwater for too long. 

As soon as Liam is comfortable sitting, Niall charges over to him, hesitating only for a second to assess Liam’s injuries before wrapping himself around Liam. He squeezes Liam carefully, but hard enough for it to hurt his shoulder and make Liam wince in pain. Niall either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Niall tells him quietly, pressing a quick kiss to Liam’s cheek before nuzzling his face into Liam’s neck again. “We thought the worst for a while there.”

“‘M not going anywhere.” Liam assures him, squeezing him back as hard as he can with his good arm. He still feels a bit groggy and weak, and he has a nauseous feeling in his stomach, but he can feel it all coming back to him already. He’ll be fine. 

When Niall pulls back finally, he sits next to Liam on the bed, giving his thigh an affectionate squeeze. 

“What happened?” Liam asks, gaze flicking between both men. “All I remember is the wildlings arriving, and then when I woke up I was…” Liam clears his throat, looking down at his lap. The mere memory of it is making his mouth dry, his hands sweating where they rest by his sides. “Harry was dragging me to safety.”

“Wildlings ransacked Winterfell.” Harry explains slowly. “Many of our men were killed. Many of theirs were, too.”

Liam bites down on his lip so hard he can taste blood. 

“Eventually, they retreated.” Harry sighs, though it seems a happy one, his lips turned up the tiniest bit in the corners. “In terms of battles, it’s not the worst we’ve seen. We won.”

Niall and Harry look at each other now, deliberately and like they’re trying to communicate something to each other than Liam doesn’t know about. Which, no, _no_ , this is about Zayn. It’s got to be, otherwise they wouldn’t be looking at each other like that.

If he’s dead, Liam doesn’t want to know. Liam can’t know. He can’t hear that.

Zayn has to be alive.

“There’s something else.” Niall adds, but he doesn’t break his gaze from Harry.

“What is it?” Liam chokes on his own words, voice betraying him as he takes a deep breath, nausea swirling in his stomach. 

“I convinced mother and Ser Rodrik that it would be best if we took some hostages.” Harry says, and Liam didn’t see it before, couldn’t through all his nervousness, but Harry is smirking. 

“Hostages?” Liam echoes.

Just at that moment, as if he’d been outside the door listening for a cue, Lord Forrester enters through the door of Harry’s bedroom.

And trailing behind him are two wildlings, wrapped in thick, dark furs, blood spattered over their smug expressions as they look at Liam.

“Lord Snow.” Zayn greets him, and Liam nearly falls apart.

He looks happy, so happy, and he’s smiling and somewhere in Liam’s peripheral vision Louis is doing a sarcastic little curtsey, but Liam doesn’t pay him any mind.

Lord Forrester leaves promptly, shutting the door behind him without another word, leaving Louis, Zayn, Harry, Niall and Liam alone together. 

Liam can’t believe it. He can’t fucking believe it because— this can’t be happening. 

He tries to wrap his mind around it all, the way Harry had smirked and called them ‘hostages’, which could only mean—

“Zayn.” Liam whispers, barely making a noise.

“Liam.” Zayn replies, equally as soft.

It feels as though anything could break this moment, shatter it to pieces and ruin everything, so Liam doesn’t dare speak again. No one else does either, for a full minute at least, and Liam does nothing but stare at Zayn, each swipe of blood on his face, each lock of hair, each piece of matted fur wrapped around him. 

It’s nothing like the last time they saw each other, when Zayn had looked at Liam like he was about to lose him forever, and Liam had been sure he was right. It’s not like the time before that, either, when Zayn had shot Liam in the arm and they’d each broken their hearts completely. 

No, this is something else entirely. 

Zayn is smiling at him. 

“So,” Harry says, and how long it’s been that he and Zayn have been staring at each other, Liam has no idea. “Louis is going to be staying here now.”

“Staying here?” Liam asks, physically forcing himself to look at Louis and Harry - who are now standing far closer than they need to. “At Winterfell?”

“Yes.” Louis confirms, eyes sparkling with what looks like mischief. 

“He’ll work as a kitchen servant.” Harry explains, and Liam thinks he’s talking to him but he can’t be sure because he’s just staring at Louis, completely fixated on him. “It’s the only way we can…”

Harry’s voice trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish. The way Harry and Louis are looking at each other makes it far more than obvious that Harry’s motives behind this “capture of hostages” is entirely based around him being able to keep Louis by his side. 

Liam whips his head around quickly as he notices Zayn taking a step closer to him, tentative, eventually resting a shaky hand on Liam’s leg where it lays outstretched in front of him.

“What are you going to do?” He says, loud enough for only Liam to hear. They lock eyes, and _oh_ , Liam had forgotten how beautiful they looked this close. “Go back to the Wall? Keep me here? Or—“ He cuts off, looking down to his hands. Liam’s gaze stays fixed on him. “Or, let me go? Join me in the free land?”

It’s a loaded question, a heavy decision, one with so many implications that Liam can’t even comprehend it. 

For as long as Liam remembers, he had always had a nagging feeling inside him, pulling at him and crawling through his skin. The feeling that he didn’t have a something to live for. Something worth fighting for. The force that drives every man on, gets him out of bed every day and makes him want to not just survive, but _live_.

He had always thought the Night’s Watch was the answer to that. A home, the men and his role amongst them a constant in his life that could make him feel as though he was worth something. And for so long, he’d ignored the voice in his mind telling him that he was wrong about that. 

As he stares at Zayn now, examining and memorising every feature that he’s fallen so, _so_ in love with, he doesn’t know how he ever managed to believe that his something worth fighting for was anything other than this. 

“I don’t mean to interject, men.” Niall chimes in, startling everyone. “But, Liam, the Watch won’t have us back now. We abandoned our post. They’ll be out for our heads.”

Liam feels a slow smile stretching across his face as he looks from Niall back to Zayn, who is staring at him expectantly, hopefully.

“Well then,” Liam smiles. “Maybe we’ll have to stay a while.”

 

E N D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE!!! please tell me what you thought :))))

**Author's Note:**

> FRIENDS stay tuned for part two, coming v soon. its worth the read i promise. a certain high-born finally makes an appearance (!!!)
> 
> i would say i hope everyone liked it (which i do tbh) but most importantly brigitte i hope you like it so far!!!


End file.
